World of Confusion
by catchme21
Summary: The brothers go up against a pair of demons with a nasty plan. When the exorcism seemingly goes off with out a hitch, Sam is sent to a world unlike anything he's ever seen. But what he's switched with could be deadly, and it wants Dean.
1. Taking the Bait

So I'm going to go ahead and put up my latest story. This story is already written, so uploads should come regularly. I'm also not going anywhere, so unlike my last story its not all going up in one day. -wink wink-

**Disclaimer:** We all know the Winchesters can't be "owned", so I'm not making any money, just having a lot of fun.  
**Spoilers:** I make mentions of Season 2, but this really doesn't follow the same timeline. There isn't any mentions of the S2 finale, so we're good there.  
**Notes:** There's some language, but not too much. There might also be some slightly gory crime scenes, however I have a bit of a weak stomach for gore so if I can write it, you can read it. I've put them in 'Aubrey, IL'...just a made up name for a standard small town. -smiles- My updates aren't normally this long, but I'm uploading chapters 1 and 2 together, they seemed kind of short by themselves. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 1...The Eye of the Storm**

They stepped around the wreckage, unable to believe what lay before them. A whole block of houses…incinerated in a moment according to the few surviving witnesses. Sam shook his head in pity…Dean shook his in anger. In a housing area that large, there was probably close to a hundred, if not two hundred deaths. Searchers were just now scraping the surface, and had already found quite a few bodies. Whatever had done this, had done it in the middle of the night, knowing everyone would be in bed.

Something had been committing random acts of violence, and they had yet to pinpoint the culprit. Nothing fit a pattern, nothing made sense, and it was hard to find exactly what was causing so many deaths so randomly. That's what had originally drawn them to Aubrey.

Sam glanced down at the ground, carefully stepping around what appeared to be the remains of a little girl's bedroom. A doll lay twisted in the wreckage, missing limbs and clumps of hair. It took a lot to creep him out, but at seeing that Sam shuddered.

Dean also shuddered, remembering the last job that had involved dolls. "Let's go," he said, noticing the stares that were directed their way. No one trusted the boys…small town ideals of the FBI held true and the distaste had begun as soon as they had shown credentials.

Uniformed police swarmed the wreckage also, looking for clues and photographing piles of debris before they could be swept away. Not wanting to draw attention to them, Sam pulled out a notebook and started jotting down notes.

--

A pair of dazed, bloodshot eyes followed them as they continued their journey around the wreckage. He had been watching them, studying them. He knew they were a formidable team, not a family to be messed with. Hell they _all_ knew that.

But he also knew the rewards and the position promised if he were to take them out. He studied them, watching them, sizing them up. He knew what he would do. The Winchesters were weakest when separated, and that's just what he planned to do.

Dipping his head, he faded farther into the growing crowds.

--

"It just doesn't make any sense Dean. We can't establish a pattern set by whatever is doing this, but we can't rule out the possibility that it's anything natural." The bag containing their finds lay on the table, confirming their worst case scenario.

While they were out on the scene, they had discovered a large circular dip in the road, and Sam had taken a sample of the fried dirt in a small sandwich bag. They had measured and guestimated, and had figured it had been the point of origin for whatever had taken place.

They had also discovered traces of sulfur in the dirt, leaning them in the direction of demon. Things had been quiet from that side, and the boys had enjoyed simpler hunts that involved silver bullets to the heart and a can of salt to the bones. They had even joked about how there were enjoying their vacation. A demon was in town now, and they would need to keep on guard.

"Well, no point in beating ourselves into the ground. How about we go out?" Dean suggested, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, it's not like we can start really looking until the morning."

"I saw a bar about 2 miles down the road," Sam suggested, throwing down his notebook. They might as well enjoy themselves now before they were knee-deep in demonic crap.

--

Simon glanced at his friend. "You have surely lost your mind."

"Come on, it'll be perfect, they'll never know what hit them," Marcus said as he slammed another shot. His drunken eyes despondently watched the Winchesters over his shoulder as they laughed, drank, and won another game of pool. Two bikers looked about ready to kill the hunters as they were hustled out of their money, but the leather-clad men were promptly removed by the weary bartender, earning another round of laughter from the boys.

"I can't help you out with this," Simon said, his own gaze nervous. He had never been this close to the Winchesters before, and though they wore easy smiles now, he knew they were ruthless and good at what they did.

"I can't do it without you," Marcus begged his old friend.

"The boss is already pissed that you've gone rogue. He didn't send you here."

"We can finally be rid of them, my plan is fool proof."

"You're the fool for doing this," Simon argued. "Besides, knowing you this plan was conceived in between bottles of Tequila."

"So I like to drink." The demon shrugged, downing another shot to emphasis his point.

"Your addiction for human substance has made you weak," Simon hissed, studying his drunken friend. No one among their ranks had fallen as far as Marcus had, and he had no one to blame but himself. He was an alcoholic, a shame to his race and rank.

"Are you going to help me or not?" The plea in his voice made Simon think twice. Marcus' plan did sound fool-proof, and it might be just what they needed.

"I swear Marcus, if you get us killed or exorcised I will torture you for eternity," Simon threatened. He couldn't believe he was about to go along with this. But if it worked, they were pretty much guaranteed a spot among the upper demons for life. They would no longer have to find disgusting human skin to house themselves in, and would be free to devout their time to much more important things than taking hunters out.

"So you'll do it?" Marcus asked hopefully.

"Will you put down that fucking bottle?" Simon asked, he needed his partner sober and coherent.

Marcus nodded. Simon nodded. They would do this.

"We need to approach this the right way," Simon said, watching as the Winchesters exited the bar, their pockets full of cash. They stumbled a bit, leaning on each other. "What do we know about the brothers?"

Marcus shooed away the next offer for a drink, and turned to his friend, seemingly stone sober for the first time in years. "The younger brother has some sort of ability, visions involving the boss, or something like that. The older brother is a smart ass who watches out for the younger like a hawk. They're quick, smart, and deadly as all get out. They're also stubborn assholes who will not leave a job unfinished."

Simon raised his eyebrow in question, to which Marcus shrugged off. "I've been studying them for a while."

"You didn't…you didn't draw them here, did you?" Simon questioned.

"You think I went rogue on purpose?"

The demons smiled, and decided what the hell; they'd have one more drink. A toast, it was the beginning of the end after all.

--

**Chapter Two…Pole Dancing**

His eyes were glued together, and someone was jack hammering in, on, and all around his head. He willed it all to stop, and to fall back asleep, but an annoying repetition of tapping wouldn't go away. He burrowed his face further into the pillow, hoping it would help silence the sound.

With a grunt of annoyance he forced his eyes all the way open and rolled on his side a bit so he could study his brother. Sam sat at the table, bathed in the glow of the laptop. The room was dark, but Dean could see the sliver of light through the heavy curtains. When Sam failed to notice he now had company, Dean turned to glance at the clock. 7:36 am. Great.

"Is there hot water at least?" Dean asked, noticing his brother's wet hair.

Without pause Sam denied it. "I didn't even have hot water. And check for cockroaches, I killed one before I got in."

Groaning, Dean threw his head back into the pillow and had every intention of falling back asleep.

"Dean, get up." Still lying on his stomach, Dean lifted an arm and swatted at his brother, before letting the heavy appendage fall limply at his side once more. "For crying out loud Dean, _get up_," Sam persisted, standing above his brother and threatening bodily harm.

Dean lifted his head again and glanced at the clock. 8:52. Huh, he had fallen back asleep.

"All right, I'm awake," Dean said, sitting up. Sam returned to his post at the table, ignoring Dean once more as he immersed himself back into whatever held his attention on teh small screen. "No hot water eh?"

Sam nodded, "And cockroaches." Dean did a quick glance at the floor around his feet, almost expecting to see them scurrying around. "Great."

His teeth were chattering and his lips were blue by the time Dean immerged from the shower, but he'd be damned if he was going to walk around smelling like musty smoke and stale beer from the night before. Quickly he towel-dried and got dressed, but was unable to shake the chill.

"Whatchya got so far?" he asked as he dug around for his keys. It was time for coffee damnit and he didn't remember where he'd tossed them.

"Not a whole lot. We need to observe the demon more I guess, establish a pattern before we can decide exactly what we're dealing with."

"You stay dream free last night?" Dean asked, studying Sam as he answered, watching for the lie.

"Yeah, surprisingly." Dean's eyes widened slightly, that hadn't been a lie. "Why?"

"Just making sure we're not dealing with _our_ demon," Dean said, finally locating his keys underneath one of the beds.

"I don't think that one would just cause random acts of violence. That particular demon just likes to fuck with us," Sam said, closing his laptop and rubbing his hands down his face. "You hungry?"

"Starving."

--

"This'll be the greatest one yet," Marcus promised as he stood amongst the throngs of people packing themselves into the mall. It was abnormally busy for a Wednesday morning, but they figured it had something to do with the female journalist signing her latest book. Perfect.

"Just hurry up and get it over with," Simon said, watching the shadows. He'd had second thoughts about this, and now he wasn't so sure he could go through with it. Marcus had talked him back into it however, and now he was just confused. He never could say no to the fool, which he supposed made him a bigger fool.

Marcus' eyes closed, and a hum filled the mall, unnoticed by the humans. Screams erupted as the floor began to tilt and sway, knocking many humans off their feet. Metal poles sprung from beneath the stained tile, impaling multiple humans simultaneously, lifting their flailing bodies into the air as they fought death. The food court of the mall soon resembled a sadistic display of human scarecrows, their faces forever frozen in shock and horror as their bodies hung limply from the metal spears.

When the screams died down, whimpers could be heard among the survivors. Gurgling and choking could be heard among the dying.

Like before, Marcus had wanted to leave survivors. He made sure one of the witnesses saw his features clearly, as well as his comrade. He would trust that one to deliver the hunters to him with a detailed description. He would need to wait for the boys to contact him if all was going to go to plan. For effect he caught a pair of terrified eyes studying him. He winked in return, laughing as the eyes disappeared behind a stone bench.

Simon couldn't help but be impressed at the amount of raw, almost animalistic cruelty pouring from his friend. He had forgotten how dangerous this breed of demon could be, it had been so long since Marcus had shown little interest in anything besides a liquor bottle.

"Metal poles?" Simon asked as they left the mall, almost at a leisurely pace. They could afford to be patient; a plan such as this could not be rushed.

"Like that one didja? I just used the poles from the support system underneath. I would say it was fairly messy and should allow the boys to see that we are serious. And I have to admit I forgot how fun that could be."

A delicious shiver crawled up Simon's spine, and for the first time since Marcus had approached him, he could almost see this working.

--

Dean watched in horrid fascination as a single bead of blood made its way down the girl's arm, joining with another as it made its way down her hand and dripped from her long, slightly curled finger, adding to the puddle already on the floor.

"Whatever happened, it wasn't human," a cop muttered to another as they studied the same body. Dean smirked, if they only knew. Turning from the horrid display, he glanced around the food court, searching out his brother.

Not seeing Sam, Dean shrugged and looked for the tell tale signs. It was small, but once he found the first trace, it wasn't hard to find the rest. At the bottom of every pole jutting from the floor, sulfur caked a small thin ring. He looked mournfully at the room one last time before stepping back outside. Damnit.

Sam sat in the back of one of the ambulances, his attention focuses solely on the little girl lying on the stretcher. Somehow, Sam's face held the perfect combination of sorrow, empathy, and sadness, which just screamed _trust me_. The little girl was crying, but her lips were moving as she recounted what she had seen. Her hands began to waive frantically, before dropping to her sides with a wail someone in Germany could have heard.

Sam addressed her again, and she seemed to calm as she nodded slowly. Sam also nodded, turning to move to the back of the ambulance. The little girl cried out, and he turned back towards her. Dean leaned against the Impala, and with a perfect view he continued to watch Sam interact with the girl. He had to admit the kid had a way with people.

The girl looked around, and then gestured him closer, sitting up to whisper in his ear. Sam suddenly jerked back as though burned, and spoke quietly to the girl. She nodded, then laid back and closed her eyes. He sat with her a few moments longer, allowing her to fully slip under, and then slowly climbed out.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked as soon as his brother was in earshot.

"She said she saw who did it."

"Oh yeah, and who was that?"

"Two men…both had black eyes."

--SN--


	2. Circling the Drain

Okay, here's the next part. Hope you guys are all enjoying!! Enormous thank you to Alisa for all of the support.

---SN---

Another agonizing week had passed by, and there had been two more incidents. Sam was pretty sure he was close to their demon, and Dean was climbing the walls, ready to kill something. Anything. Just for the instant satisfaction he'd "hunted" the spider that had made itself a home in the top corner of the room. But if he had to inspect another crime scene that looked like it should belong in some sick twisted horror movie, he knew he would lose it.

Every crime scene held small clues. It was almost like the demon was taunting them, leaving them calling cards. He couldn't figure out if the demon was just stupid, or if it was actually one of the smarter ones. And that kind of scared him.

And to top it all off, the town was beginning to lose their trust in the boys. They would need it if they had any hopes of gaining information. Whispers of "useless FBI" and "if they can't help they need to fuck off" could be heard, even at the local diner. Forget even being able to go to the local bar.

The police scanner in the corner cracked to life, and the dispatcher's voice gravely informed all listening of another attack, another scene. Sam and Dean looked at each other, their eyes meeting as they sought the strength to face another demonic after party.

"I don't think I can do this," Sam confessed, and for a moment Dean almost confessed the same.

"Come on Sammy, we'll find this little bitch and waste him before he can do it again." This job, along with their repeated failed attempts at pinpointing the culprit, was wearing them down, but regardless they had to trudge on. With heavy hearts and even heavier foot steps, they left for the next slaughter.

--

Dean was studying the bodies, looking for their next clue, fighting queasiness of his own. Sam stayed outside, talking to a kid with a bright green mohawk and a skateboard.

The cops were stumped, but no one was ready to admit there was anything more than a serial killer on the loose. It amazed Sam that they could overlook everything that was going on.

The newest crime involved folks at a dive bar. It might have started out as karaoke night, but ended with the patrons all dead, their faces completely gone. One cop described it as if someone had placed a bomb inside their heads, blowing their faces clean off. Nothing remained from their hairline to their chin, and Dean frowned in disgust. The body on the stage still clutched the microphone as lay crumpled beneath the karaoke screen, which was obscured by the singer's own face. Or at least he was pretty sure it was the guy's face, it looked like the tip of his nose still hung from the screen's corner.

Dean noticed a small metal plate on the table in front of one of the victims. Reaching carefully so he didn't disturb the mass that was once that person's face, he plucked the plate and slipped it into his pocket.

Sam swallowed back bile as he spoke with the next witness. This one had to be the worst, and he knew they were running out of time to figure this out.

"Can you send it to me?" Sam asked after the boy had revealed he'd gotten a picture of the pair on his camera phone. The pair was now widely becoming known through out the small community as having been spotted at every disaster as it happened. The newspapers screamed the supernatural, but the law enforcement hushed any talk about it and played it off as the town "just being dramatic".

The kid shrugged, but soon Sam had a copy of the pair leaving the bar. The kid had been outside the bar going back and forth on his board in the parking lot, waiting for his older friends to come back out with the booze, when he had heard the screams, and then had seen the pair emerge. He was convinced it had been THE pair, so he took a picture.

Where was his reward? Sam directed him to the nearest police officer. He watched as Dean came into sight, looking like he'd stolen the golden cookie.

"What?" Sam asked as Dean walked past him and headed for the Impala.

"I think I just found the sonsa bitches," Dean answered, not hesitating as he climbed in.

"Bout time," Sam muttered, looking forward to putting the pair out of their misery.

--

"I don't know Dean; I just think it's too obvious. They want us to find them, and that can't be good," Sam argued as he watched Dean load his duffel with every demon tool they had.

"Well, then they're not exactly the brightest crayons in the box and we should have no problems," Dean answered, not slowing.

"You don't think this could be some sort of trap? They've played with us all week, and now they're letting us know where they are? You don't think that seems suspicious at all?"

"Sammy Sammy, you worry too much," Dean smirked. "They're probably just enjoying themselves, and probably have no clue who we are or why we're here. They're getting sloppy because they're getting cocky, that's all. The cops in this town couldn't arrest a jaywalker let alone arrest their so-called serial killers."

Sam glanced at the metal plate once more. It was the address for one of the local warehouses, and after some digging they found the plates were used to identify equipment that the warehouse had operated. After some digging, they had found out that the warehouse had suffered a bad fire some years ago, and had been abandoned ever since. Perfect place for two sadistic demons to go and celebrate their victories later.

The boys surmised that they were dealing with lower level demons sent to cause havoc and destruction. There seemed to be no real purpose behind their attacks, no pattern to establish that they were in fact targeting a specific group of people. They had even attacked a nursing home, turning it inside out as well as many of the residents.

"You ready?" Dean asked, shrugging into his coat.

"Yeah," Sam replied, unable to quell that uneasy feeling.

--

The warehouse was quiet, dark, and perfect. They decided the Winchesters needed to die like they had lived…alone and in the dark.

-

Every hair stood on end, every nerve thrummed as adrenaline shot through their limbs. They were on edge, ready for the hunt, ready for the kill.

Their whole life they had trained endlessly for fights like tonight, and they would not fail. They didn't know how.

-

They knew the moment their prey entered their domain. They had come on foot…but they knew better. The playing field was set…

-

Dean entered first, releasing a low whistle as he eyed the spacious warehouse.

Half of the roof was missing, and a large hole gaped where the fire had raged on. It had been cleared out years ago, now all that stood was the empty shell, withering and decaying in the elements. Along the south wall, large wooden and cardboard boxes sat hap hazardously; most of them ready to fall at the slightest disturbance. It was an accident waiting to happen.

Sam entered closely behind, his eyes covering their back trail as his senses went into overdrive. That familiar flutter he always got before a show down was back, his nervousness not unshared by his older sibling. It was like stepping out onto a stage in front of a crowd of people with little butterflies tickling your stomach. Once in the heat of battle, that feeling vanished, and it would promptly be forgotten in the aftermath of the battle.

A feeling of being watched overwhelmed them, and they knew in that moment they were no longer alone. Their eyes met, and they silently set their plan into motion.

Sam circled back, molding himself into the shadows and staying low, crouching and running behind the boxes. Trying to keep attention on himself, Dean stayed more out in the open, hoping to make the demons careless and to draw them out.

He didn't have to wait long. He'd gotten halfway across the warehouse when a figure materialized from the shadows. He couldn't see the thing's face, but he knew it was their demon.

"Dean Winchester I presume?" His voice was low and clear, almost seductive as he let out a small laugh.

"And who the hell are you?" Dean asked, his hand reaching for the flask of holy water in his back pocket. Not once did his eyes leave the figure, and his ears strained for any sounds being made by his brother.

"My name is not important. Just know I will be the last thing you hunt." The man stepped into the seedy moonlight pouring from one of the various holes in the back half of the roof.

Dean scoffed, sizing up his enemy. He was older, had to be possessing a man no younger than 50. "What makes you so confident?" Dean asked, still trying to pick up on the location of his youngest brother. Damn the kid was good, the area he had disappeared to was silent.

Meanwhile Sam settled, and pulled out his handgun, keeping an aim on the man confronting Dean.

The gun might be useless, but if things got dicey he could at least fire and give Dean the time to escape. They had soaked their bullets in holy water, so at least the small metal pieces would sting like a son of a bitch.

He never saw the second figure advancing.

"So where's that brother of yours?" the man asked, catching Dean off guard.

"Taking down your partner. But let's skip the small talk and get down to business," Dean said, his gut slightly clenching at the demon's mention of his brother. So much for making him think he was alone.

"Oh I hardly consider young Sam small talk. He's quite the celebrity among our ranks…everyone wants a piece of him."

"It ain't gonna happen," Dean said simply, a million threats pouring out in that one small sentence.

"You speak too soon," the man replied, his eyes narrowing.

_Shit_, Dean thought as he watched the man's eyes narrow. He felt the hum of power as it surrounded him, and then he was sent flying. The flask of holy water hit the ground before he did, but he barely acknowledged it's presence as he landed next to it. A loud _crack_ sounded, breaking the split second of silence, and soon Sam was landing next to him.

The brothers stood, helping each other up. Dean's eyes followed Sam's flight path, and he noted the shattered boxes. Something had sent his brother through the boxes.

"I found the second one," Sam got out through clenched teeth, unconsciously grasping at his ribs. He had landed wrong, and he knew he probably had at least two bruised, if not cracked, ribs.

"Thank you Captain Obvious," Dean returned, sure that he'd broken his tailbone. Sitting in the Impala was going to be a bitch now.

"Oh come now boys, tell me you have more than that!" the second man taunted as he made himself known. This one appeared to be no older than Dean, but the smile lighting up his face made him look years younger, almost child-like. "I thought you were the mighty mighty Winchesters!"

"Leave your freak-o abilities out of the fight and we'll show you mighty," Dean said, stepping slightly forward. He didn't like the way the 50 year old was staring at Sam.

"Oh Dean, I forgot what a pain in the ass I heard you were. Go sit in the corner," the younger man said, whipping Dean away. Dean grunted as he hit the opposite wall, his vision threatening to go black as he tasted copper. Through his double vision, Dean smirked. He could really give Superman a run for his money with all of the flying he was doing lately.

The demons began to advance on Dean, losing track of the danger behind them.

_"Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in noimine Jesu Christi Filii ejus,"_ Sam began to whisper, trying not to let the demons hear him. _"Domini et Judicis nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti, ut descedas ab hoc plasmate Dei, quod Dominus noster ad templum sanctum suum vocare dignatus est, ut fiat templum Dei vivi, et Spiritus Sanctus habitet in eo…"_ He got no further into the Catholic exorcism before his voice was cut off.

Pain had begun to flare, and Simon had known something was wrong. "Uh uh uh Sam," the older demon said, wagging a finger at him. "That's a no no."

"Don't harm him Simon," the younger man said, clutching at his stomach as the pain from the exorcism receeded, and turning his attention back to Dean.

"You just do your part and I'll do mine Marcus," Simon replied, his expression cold and bitter.

It was difficult to draw in breath. Sam could feel the invisible vice around his throat, tightening with each struggle. He stopped struggling, and weakly whispered, "…_Per eumdem Christum Dominum nostrum, qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos, et saeculum per ignem_."

The combined scream of the demons was inhuman, and the warehouse filled with a brilliant white light. A small explosion rocked the abandoned property, and then all fell silent.

Dean lay in a heap on the floor, having lost his battle to stay conscious. Sam lay feet from him; the blast had sent him sprawling into a pile of forgotten support beams. He'd lost consciousness on impact.

The demons, and their hosts, were gone.

---SN---

More soon, thanks for coming out to play. -smile-


	3. Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Here's the next part. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and put this on alert. Special thanks again to Alisa, always cheering me on. -smiles-

This is two short chapters put together again, so they jump back and forth for a bit. Hopefully this won't be too confusing, I'll put little headers above the parts (the names mean we're with that respective character). From here on out we'll be jumping realities, so stay with me and let me know if things are too jacked up to understand. The other site I got to post in colors...here? Not so much heh heh.

* * *

**_---Sam---_**

"Sam? Oh my God, Sammy? Please oh please wake up!" Hands violently shook him as the voice pleaded with him.

_Damnit Dean, stop,_ Sam pleaded, but he couldn't seem to get the words out. Deciding to take it one step at a time, he forced an eyelid open.

Dean sat above him, or at least he thought it was Dean. His brother's eyes were wide in panic, and tears freely poured down his face.

"Sam? Oh Sam, I thought I'd lost you!" Dean cried, sweeping his brother into a bone-crushing hug.

"For crying out loud Dean, let me go!" Sam yelled out as a wave of nausea ran through him. He was going to be sick down the front of Dean's coat if he didn't let go soon. Oh, yep, there it was…

"Oh, right, I'm sorry," Dean said, instantly releasing Sam and scooting back a few feet.

Sam straightened after depositing what was left of his dinner behind the pile he'd landed on. "Are you alright?" he asked his brother as he took in the hunched form.

"Me?" Dean asked, blinking as though Sam had just asked him a trick question.

"Dean, what's going on with you? How hard did you hit your head?" Sam reached forward but jerked his hand back when Dean flinched.

"Nothing, no I'm fine, I just forgot you don't do hugs."

"_I_ don't do hugs? Alright hero, I think we've had enough action for tonight."

He stepped forward to help Dean to his feet, not expecting the reaction. Dean scrambled a few more feet back, curling inside himself.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam looked around the warehouse, for the first time noticing the absence of the hosts. That exorcism should have left bodies behind at least. Shaking his head, he decided they would have to come back. Right now he was pretty sure he had to get his near-panicked brother to a hospital. Something wasn't right.

"Nothing Sam, I'm fine. I'll…I'll be ok. Just go ahead and I'll meet you at the motel."

"Meet me at the…Dean, what? Where are you going?"

"To the motel. You drive, I walk. That's the way it works, remember?"

"Ok, that's it; we're going to the hospital."

"Why? Are you hurt?" Dean asked, this time taking Sam's offered hand.

"No, but something scrambled that brain of yours when you landed."

"So I'll meet you at the hospital?"

Had he missed something? "Dean, quit messing around and let's go."

"You said that I wouldn't be able to ride in your Impala after the spilled Coke incident."

"_My_ Impala?" Oh this should be good.

"Yeah, the one you got before you headed off for college. You know, that one."

"Dean…" Sam struggled to find the words. Dean's behavior was flooring him. Since when had the Impala become his? Since when had Dean _walked_ anywhere? "Let's just go."

"You mean I don't have to walk?" The look on Dean's face almost made Sam pitch forward. He had never seen such a look of pure relief and happiness on his brother's face before.

Sam groaned. This was going to be a long night. "Get in."

_**---Dean---**_

Dean struggled to sit. His head was killing him, and if he hadn't broken his tailbone before, he'd _vaporized_ it on that landing.

His eyes darted around the warehouse, and focused on the only other being remaining. Sam lay on a pile of beams, unmoving. Moving carefully as not to jar his screaming head, he made his way to the still form. The sun had set, leaving a cool draft to work its way through the warehouse, making Dean's teeth chatter.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean tried, shaking his brother.

"Fuck Dean, stop shaking me!" The sudden venom in his brother's voice shocked Dean. He watched quietly as Sam turned on the beams, and sounds of retching could be heard as he lost his dinner behind the beams.

"You alright?"

"What did I tell you about asking me that every 15 goddamn minutes?" Sam spat as he wiped his mouth. "Sam are you okay, Sam are you alright, Sam, Sam, Sam," he mimicked.

"Woah, Sammy, I just wanted to make sure…what the hell is your problem?"

"No Dean, what is your problem?? Did you grow a pair of balls all of a sudden?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean said, still unable to grasp the fact that it was _Sam_ saying those things to him. Maybe…crap.

"Where are the keys?"

"Huh?" Dean said, shaking his thoughts. No, if Sam was going to be evil, he wouldn't mearly be making comments.

"I had the keys, now I don't. Damnit Dean if you took them again…"

"You mean these keys?" Dean said, pulling the keys to the Impala out of his pocket, where they always resided.

"Hand them over."

"What? No way, not with you being a little bitch. I think we should go to the hospital and get you checked out, something isn't right." No sooner had he finished the sentence than Sam was on top of him, fists landing. It was the exploding pain in his backside that made him realize he'd landed flat on his ass with his brother on top.

Dean struggled to dodge the blows, landing an elbow in the spot he had seen his brother clutching earlier. Sam gasped, and tipped sideways, freeing Dean of his weight. Dean stood; wiping the blood from his now split lip. As Sam also began to stand, Dean sent a fist crashing into his jaw. He hated to do it, but he watched in grim determination as Sam sank to the floor, unconscious once more. He wasn't sure what had Sam's panties in a twist, but he was sure it wasn't good.

_**---Sam---**_

"Dean, I'm fine. Seriously dude, you have to stop crying, you're creeping me out." Sam had opted not to go to the hospital until he could get a handle on Dean.

"I'm sorry Sam, it's just, I was so worried, and I can't help myself."

"Dean, you never cry. I think I've seen you cry a total of three times in my entire life, and once was after . What's gotten into you?" Sam watched Dean's face as his brother struggled to find the words.

"When I got up and found you unconscious…oh Sammy…I would just _die_ if something happened to you!!" A new wave of tears poured from Dean's eyes.

Sam stared at his brother, slack-jawed and at a loss for words as he tried to figure out what was going on. They'd finally made it back to the hotel after Sam had convinced Dean he could ride in the Impala with him. He wasn't about to let his brother drive until he figured out what was going on, but Dean seemed more than happy to comply in the passenger's seat. And the fact that he kept calling it _Sam's car_ had him nervous as well.

"Ok Dean, we need to figure out exactly what happened in that warehouse," Sam said, sitting down on one of the beds. He dropped his head into his hands, inhaling a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well, there was this huge white explosion. After that it's a bit fuzzy, but I found you laying there and oh man I began to panic. But you're ok, right? I mean, you're sort of not acting like yourself, maybe you hit your head harder then we thought." Dean's face screwed up and Sam gave him a warning look, daring him to start crying again. Instead Dean sniffed, and rubbed a hand over his eye in that all too familiar gesture.

Sam was incredulous as he focused on the last statement, "_I'm_ not acting like me? I think you've got that backwards."

"No, no, there's something definitely off. This, this is the first time you and I have had a decent conversation since Mom died."

"You mean to tell me you don't think we've been having decent conversations in the past twenty-three years? I know we joke around a lot, but come on-"

"Um, no, it's just been about the last six months or so."

"Dean, Mom died twenty-three years ago."

"Sam, Mom died six months ago. Dad died twenty-three years ago. You sure you're feeling ok?"

"Dean, it's official, you've lost it."

"No Sam, I'm pretty sure you've lost it. Oh I'm sorry!" Dean looked genuinely mortified. "I didn't mean that last statement!"

Sam shook his head. It was definitely time to take Dean to get checked out. The emotional outbursts, the confusion, and the memory loss hopefully meant Dean had a concussion. At this point Sam would accept a brain tumor. Something was just not right.

"Dean, I think we should go get you checked out, ok? Make sure you didn't do any more damage than you can afford to," Sam said, laughing slightly. Dean jumped back as though he'd been bit.

"Sam…you _laughed_," he said, watching the younger man with curious eyes. At first he thought Sam might hit him, like usual, but if Sam was laughing…

"I know you think I'm a brooding, pouting, emotional wreck Dean, but I do laugh every once in a while," Sam said, rolling his eyes.

"I haven't heard you laugh in I don't know how long now. It's like you've…you've changed…"

"Dean, what do you think has changed about me?" Sam asked, suddenly curious. Neither had yet to make a move out of the room, though both thought the other needed medical intervention.

"Well, like I said, you're talking to me. You let me ride in the car. And you're laughing," Dean said, flinching slightly as he waited for the blow. It never came.

"Dean, something weird is going on. I think those demons put some whammy on you or something. Will you let me take you to the hospital to get checked out?" Sam asked, not wanting to listen to the delusions of his brother any longer.

"No, no, I'll be fine."

"Dean, we're going to the hospital."

"Ok Sam."

_**---Dean---**_

"You…are…going…on…a…serious…diet!" Dean grunted out as he struggled to carry the unconscious form of his lanky sibling to the car. Sam was heavier than he looked, and Dean wasn't sure where the kid packed all the weight.

Flutters of doubt and panic raced across his thoughts, but he refused to indulge in them. The last time Sam had acted that way…

No, there was no way something else could have gotten to his baby brother. Bobby had given them the charms, and they were taking special precautions. For now he would just have to hope that whatever blow had knocked Sam out had scrambled something. He would just have to hope that Sam would be ok.

He didn't want Sam propped up in the front seat, so he stretched him out in the back seat. With his brother now in the protective confines of the Impala, Dean ran back inside the abandoned warehouse and did one last check. There were no signs of the demons, just a large circular scorch mark in the center of the floor. Whatever exorcism Sam had used had annihilated the demons, leaving nothing recognizable behind. _Damn. _Dean shrugged, it had been a bad ass exorcism, maybe the hosts had been vaporized.

He unpacked the bag and placed all of the contents back into the trunk, making sure they went to their exact spots. He always teased Sam about having OCD, but he would proudly admit his weapons demanded him having a little OCD too. With an uneasy glance to the sleeping form in the back seat, he placed the vial of holy water in the pocket inside his jacket and placed the sawed-off shotgun on the passenger side. It couldn't hurt to be prepared.

They were about halfway back to the motel when Sam woke up. Dean eased the car to the side of the road the moment he heard Sam stir. The last thing he needed was a blow to the back of the head to send the car careening off the road.

"You ok back there Sammy?"

"Dean? What the hell happened?"

"You took a blow to the head man, a pretty nasty one."

"Feels like I took one to the face. Dean, are you _driving_??" Sam asked, sitting up, rubbing at his jaw.

"Um, yeah Sparky, what else would I be doing?"

"I guess you forgot what I did to you the last time I caught you driving my car," Sam growled, jerking the back door open and hopping out. Before Dean could even soak in his words, Sam was wrenching his door open.

"Sam, get back in the car. We'll talk about this-"

"Get the fuck out of my car."

That was it. Sam had called it _his_ car one too many times. "Sam, what the hell is your problem?" Dean fired off as he turned off the ignition, pocketed the keys, and climbed out, his temper rising. His hand snaked inside the other side of his jacket, clutching for the vial of holy water.

"My problem? You're the one with the problem Dean. Apparently you've forgotten your place in line."

"I don't know what happened to you back there, but you better knock this shit off Sam, its not cute."

"Oh my Dean, I do believe you've grown a pair after all. Too bad you'll still always be that weak, sniveling-"

"_Christo_!" Dean yelled as he began to shower Sam with the water. Sam shrank away from the shower at first, mainly from pure shock, but he remained on his feet as the water had no effect. "What the…" Dean said, backing away from a now very pissed off Sam, whose eyes remained crystal clear instead of clouding to black. Damn he looked downright scary with the murderous glint in his eyes…

"Dean, for the sake of my sanity and for your life, we're going to forget what you just did. I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I'm going to assume that blow to your head scrambled something."

"Sam, look man, I think the demons put some sort of whammy on you. You just aren't yourself."

"I think you're the one that's fucked up Dean. Now _move_."

_Hell_ no, Dean thought the instant he felt himself being pushed aside. Sam was headed for the driver's seat of the Impala, almost like he belonged there.

"I don't know what the hell your problem is Sam, but this shit is going to stop." Warning lights suddenly danced behind Dean's eyes, and he watched with wary anticipation as Sam spun in a slow circle to face him.

"I should have been an only child," was all he said. But it was enough to send a chill down Dean's spine. He wasn't sure what had happened in that warehouse, but he had never heard such malice and hate surrounding his little brother's words before. Even when he was possessed, Sam didn't seem half as angry as he was now.

And Dean had no clue what to do about it. In the tiniest of moments when he'd been distracted by destructive thoughts, Sam had chosen that precise moment to attack. His shoulder was driving into Dean's gut, forcing the air from his lungs all at once, leaving him leveled on the ground and panting for air. Sam sat above him, and raised his fist in the air.

Dean prepared himself, but it wasn't enough. That first nose-breaking crack almost sent him into shock. When had Sam become so strong? It felt like all of his weight had been packed behind that punch. Dean's mind immediately sent itself back to Bobby's house, when Sam hit him again and again and again…

Lost in a gut-wrenching, disorienting sense of déjà vu, he felt the second blow, but swore it had shattered what was left of his nose. He prepared for another blow, but it didn't come. Instead, the hand fisted in his shirt released him and he felt himself falling. Hands patted his jacket, and his keys jingled as they were lifted. Laying on the ground, dazed and confused, he watched as Sam's feet walked away and disappeared into the driver's seat. He sent a triumphant sneer Dean's way, then left a cloud of dust and a shower of gravel as he peeled out.

Dean lay there, and suddenly realized he was choking on the blood that was now pouring down the back of his throat from his damaged sinuses. He rolled to the side and coughed, gagging as he spit out chunks of blood. His lip had also opened back up, reminding him of their fight in the warehouse.

He had to get outside help. "Don't do this to me Sammy," he begged at he dug for his cell phone. The possibility that this is what their father warned about was suddenly becoming all too real.

"Ellen, I need your help."

--SN--

Hope you guys enjoyed. I gotta admit, I was expecting a bit more of a reaction for this story...but as long as even one person is enjoying, I'll keep posting. -smiles-


	4. New Routines

Okay guys, another chapter up. I would have put it up sooner but I made a big long move across town and still don't have internet hooked up just yet. Man I hate moving...heh heh heh. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who is reading, and I hope you all are enjoying.

**_Disclaimer:_** Still don't own them. But that's okay, Kripke and Co is taking awesome care of them until they're mine.  
**_Author's Note:_** Remember, since I can't use colors, the names at the beginning of the sections indicate who we're dealing with. As you all have probably figured out, one of the boys has been thrown into another world. The name will show you which brother since we now have four yummy Winchesters. Dedicated to all my girls on the forums, they know who they are. I hope they're having a fun little vacation, SN fans unite!! Lol...

* * *

_**---Sam---**_

"Besides a slight bump, your brother seems perfectly fine," the doctor said, already having signed Dean out of the emergency room.

"Thanks Doc," Sam said, pushing aside the curtain to reveal the subject of conversation sitting on the bed.

"Just keep an eye on him if you're really that worried, and bring him back if anything changes. Wake him up a few times tonight, and make sure his blurred vision doesn't return. I'm also going to fill out a prescription of light painkillers for his headache."

"Sure thing, thanks Doc. Ready to go Dean?"

"Where we goin'?"

"Not sure about you, but I'm starvin'. What do you feel like eating?"

Dean grabbed his jacket and jumped off the bed. "No Sam, I never choose. You always choose."

"All right Dean, sure, whatever. I think I saw a burger place down the street."

"Hope they have salads," Dean said in a low voice.

"If not, I'll eat another burger," Sam said, pulling out the keys. He still wasn't going to let Dean drive, and was glad when Dean slipped into the passenger side without argument.

"Ok, if not, I'll find a salad place then."

"Dean, don't worry about it."

"I…I can't eat any burgers Sam, I'll find a different place on my own."

Sam raised his eyebrow. "Oh really? And why can't you eat burgers?" Dean practically lived on red meat, and Sam was always giving him a hard time about trying to eat healthier.

"I know you've never really cared before, so I'm not surprised you don't know," Dean said, looking away almost sheepishly. They came to a red light, so Sam turned to face him. "I'm a vegetarian."

It was a good thing they were stopped, Sam was pretty sure he would have wrecked the car. "You're a _what_?"

"I can't eat meat. Those poor animals, they didn't deserve to die just so humans could grill and barbeque them."

"Oh, very funny Dean," Sam said, laughing and pulling through the intersection after noticing the light was green. "That's a good one."

"I don't think it's funny at all," Dean said, taking a defensive tone. "How can you eat something that smiles back? How do you eat a burger without hearing its last 'moo'?"

"You're…you're serious, aren't you?"

"It's not the first time I've refused to eat a burger Sam."

Sam shook his head. He was no longer convinced it was just a concussion. Something supernatural was going on with his brother, and he intended to find out.

**_---Dean---_**

Having a crushed tailbone and deteriorated sinuses made the walk that much worse. His body was angled funny to avoid moving his tailbone while he puffed and wheezed through his mouth. Sam was so going to die for this.

The warehouse had been about 3 miles out of town, and it was the longest three miles he had ever walked. The sky was dark and thunder rumbled off in the distance by the time he'd made it to the edge of town. He was soaked from the downpour by the time he reached the motel.

He was glad for once that they'd stayed at a place that had the card keys instead of the regular keys. That meant both he and Sam each had one of the cards. The window was dark, indicating Sam was asleep.

Not caring about the noise factor, Dean shouldered his way into the room and flipped on the lights. Sam's dirtied clothes lay thrown about the room, but his bed remained empty.

"Wait a second," Dean said as he stepped back outside the door. The Impala was missing. He was so intent on finally reaching the room he hadn't even noticed.

Obviously Sam had made it back to the room, changed, and left again. As carefully as he could, he peeled off his own clothes as he stumbled towards the small bathroom. He just wanted to take a shower and crawl into bed. In the morning he'd beat the tar out of his brother.

The passing image in the mirror above the small sink outside of the bathroom stopped him before he could reach the awaiting steam. His nose sat at an angle, or maybe it was, he couldn't quite tell through blurred vision. Crusted blood was splashed across his face like demented freckles, and smeared around his mouth. Pink trails ran down his face, from where the rain had hit the wound on his head. His cheek was bruised and the skin was slightly raw, where Sam's knuckles had landed. His split lip was swollen, making his face look off balance.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, bending carefully to remove his jeans. His tailbone felt better he realized as he tentatively flexed his cheeks. Maybe it wasn't broken after all, maybe just bruised.

He entered the bathroom to find the first aid kit out on the sink, its contents sprawled along the sink and falling onto the floor. There were small drops of blood around the sink, and a bloody fingerprint graced the knob of the cold water tap. At least Sam had taken care of himself before going back out.

Dean turned and flipped on the hot water to the shower, not bothering to add cold. He eagerly waited for the water to warm. Five minutes went by, and the crusted showerhead was still spewing ice cubes. "Fuck it," Dean said, jumping into the shower.

A high pitched squeak escaped before he could rein it in. For once he wished Sam had been around to hear.

**_---Sam---_**

He knew how many suspended tiles lined the ceiling, and he was pretty sure that the tile right above his head held about two thousand holes in it. The second time he had counted the pin-sized holes had confirmed it. The tile to the right held a large stain, and he was able to pick out about five different shapes.

His eyes burned, and they had threatened to close more than once. But each time they would close, the silence of the room would become suffocating, pressing down on him until it was too much to bear. He couldn't go to sleep. The way Sam had been acting had made him worried, he wasn't himself. He wouldn't be able to sleep until Sam came back, safe and sound.

Keys rattled in the doorway, and Dean sat up in the bed, gasping for air.

"Sam? Where have you been??"

"What's wrong?" Sam said, immediately alert, his eyes searching the room for the smallest sign of trouble.

"Where have you been?" Dean repeated without a hint of accusation or anger. Mostly he just sounded _scared_.

"Woah, dude, relax. I just went to go get your prescriptions filled and the line was a little longer than I thought it was going to be. Definitely time for a new card though," Sam said, tossing the useless plastic at Dean. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he thought he saw Dean flinch. "That one came back as stolen. Which is weird because I thought we made up that goofy ass name after about four pitchers of beer."

Through the whole one-sided conversation, Sam completely missed the mixture of emotions playing over Dean's face. He looked up in just enough time to see the first tear fall.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam said. "What are you crying about now?" It was so hard not to be impatient with his brother. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "Dean, what's wrong?"

"You sure you're okay Sammy?" Dean flinched. "Sorry, _Sam_."

For once, Sam wished he would be the one to correct his brother. "Yeah, I'm fine. I stubbed my toe on the door on my way into the pharmacy, but I think I'll live."

The sarcasm was lost on Dean as the tears ceased. A look of pure relief and a bright smile lit up his face.

A while later Sam sat at the laptop, and Dean sat on the bed across the room. Just _staring_. Sam could feel the gaze burning a hole in his forehead. "Dude, enough!"

"What?" Dean looked honestly surprised and innocent.

"Why don't you…clean the weapons or something?"

"Really?"

"Um…yeah, sure."

"Sweet! Dude you haven't let me clean those in years!"

He couldn't handle it anymore. The situations was fucked up at best, and it wasn't getting any better. "Dean. Clean. Now." Dean jumped up with child-like excitement, grabbed the weapon cleaning kit, grabbed the M-16 they had recently acquired, and got to work.

Finally with a moment of peace, Sam dove into his research. He reread every article from the past few days, the last crimes the demons had ever committed. Something seemed off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Each crime was as he remembered it, but some of the details were off, different.

Once again, he felt eyes following his every move. He glanced up to find Dean on the bed, in the same spot, clutching the bolt carrier. The rag hung limply in his hand, paused in mid-clean. Embarrassed eyes quickly dropped downward when Dean realized he'd been caught staring again.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked gently. Though he was smug, self-possessed and egotistical, Dean had always been patient with him when it came down to it. He would just have to remember that the next time he felt like lashing out at him.

"I just can't get over it," came the reply. Eyes remained focused on the task of cleaning out the guts of the weapon. Sam noticed that the firing pin was bright silver, spotless from countless cleanings, but Dean scooped it up regardless and continued to scrub.

"Over what?" Sam asked, not really sure he wanted to know.

"You."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. You just seem…I'unno…so different."

"How?" This was the second time Dean had brought this up. As far as Sam knew he'd been acting the same, besides his attempt at reigning in his temper.

"Nothin', nevermind."

"Come on Dean. You gotta help me out here. You think I'm acting different, I think you've lost it, help me out here. Help me try to understand where you're comin' from right now."

The firing pin dropped to the bed, a soft metal clank sounding as it hit one of the other pieces. "Like that."

"Like what?"

"You caring. You're talking to me; you have me cleaning the weapons for crying out loud!"

"You're still losing me here, man. I'm trying to follow along, honestly I am."

"Ever since Mom died, you've been this big ball of hate and anger. I mean, you used to be an ass when we were kids, but it got to the point of where I was thinking of taking off on you. I could never do anything right, and I think I have more bruises from you than I do anything we've frickin' hunted! I don't dare speak, blink, or take a piss for fear that I might set you off. You never let me ride in the car except for when we move across state lines, after the stain incident, caused by you I might add. I never get any sleep because you feel like it is your sole purpose in life, if you're not hunting that is, is to screw every female in every god-forsaken town we stop in. So I lay awake every night, never knowing if you're going to come home or not."

Through his whole tirade, Sam sat silent, absorbing the words.

"You're constantly insulting me, calling me names and pushing me around. Oh, and let's not forget the time you tried to bury me alive after using me as bait to draw in a dead chick. 'No Dean, you have to stay in there too, or she'll get out.'" The last statement came out in a bitter mimic, but Dean's eyes were no longer focused on Sam. They had dropped slightly, and by the far off look he didn't think Dean was even in the room with him anymore. Sam had also noticed Dean's face had lost all color, and he looked about the verge of tipping over. "After I stabbed the chick, holding her in her coffin, I'll never forget your laugh as you shut the coffin lid on me. I was in there for half an hour..." A visible shudder rippled through his brother's form, and his shoulders sank even further.

Silence fell on the room again, and Dean resumed cleaning. Sam sat, speechless. What the hell was going on? He had never done any of those things. With shaking fingers, he drew his cell phone out of his pocket.

"Ellen? I need your help."

* * *

Okay, that's it for now. Hope you guys are enjoying, let me know if things are getting too confusing or if something seems off.

I should have another update coming soon.

Loves,  
Kris


	5. If The Pieces Don't Fit

Updates are coming slower 'cuz I'm working like a dog. Twelve plus hour days really blow, and don't leave much energy for anything. Heh heh but enough 'wah', here's my next update. I won't be updating again for another week so this one is longer, I get to go out and live and work in a tent for a week...internet free haha...God I hope the rumors of freezing rain aren't true...

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own 'em, but I'd be too selfish with 'em.  
**AN: **Remember, we're hopping between two universes. The names at the beginning indicates our respective Winchester. Plus, hopefully I've done my job and you'll be able to tell who is who. -wink wink-

Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

**_-Dean-_**

_"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, bending carefully to remove his jeans. His tailbone felt better he realized as he tentatively flexed his cheeks. Maybe it wasn't broken after all, maybe just bruised._

_He entered the bathroom to find the first aid kit out on the sink, its contents sprawled along the sink and falling onto the floor. There were small drops of blood around the sink, and a bloody fingerprint graced the knob of the cold water tap. At least Sam had taken care of himself before going back out._

_Dean turned and flipped on the hot water to the shower, not bothering to add cold. He eagerly waited for the water to warm. Five minutes went by, and the crusted showerhead was still spewing ice cubes. "Fuck it," Dean said, jumping into the shower._

_A high pitched squeak escaped before he could rein it in. For once he wished Sam had been around to hear._

He had finally fallen asleep.

The chill of the shower hadn't left him, even after he'd scrubbed himself dry and piled on the clothes. The dirty sheets felt greasy to the touch, so he decided to lie on top of the comforter. An old woolen blanket from the closet lay draped over him, scratching where patches of skin were left vulnerable. He'd given up about an hour after trying to fall asleep, and with practiced fingers had cleaned their weapons. Just for the hell of it he'd drawn a half-circle around the doorway and a line by the window sill of salt. Now, with all of the weapons cleaned and neatly stowed, and the room secured, Dean had finally felt the wave of exhaustion that had been evading him pull him under.

He had finally fallen asleep.

Plastic grated on metal as the key card was inserted. The sound of a body hitting the door sounded loud, and immediately Dean was alert. His hand slowly reached for the bedside stand, sliding the drawer open and grasping at the pistol stashed inside.

"Shhhhhh," came from the other side of the door, followed by a female giggle. "My brother's aleep."

"You have a brother in there?"

"Yep." More giggling, this time male.

"Do you think we should...?"

"Oh yeah baby, he's half brain dead as it is. He won't care."

"Sounds kinky." Yet another giggle, so high-pitched it was discernable.

Dean's eyes widened at Sam's last remark. Apparently Sam was still whack. The second thing that hit Dean, and hit him hard, was the fact that Sam was bringing a girl back.

The door opened, and was accompanied by sounds of smacking and heavy breathing. Any excuses Dean had about reasons for Sam bringing someone back vanished in an instant. The moment he heard the two bodies settle on the bed, he was sitting up, flipping the lamp on.

Dim light flooded the room, but it was enough. Sam lay poised over the girl, his heated glare fixed on Dean, who in turn studied the girl. From this position he could clearly see down the front of her shirt, and he knew from experience the girl was goin' commando.

"Go back to sleep Dean," Sam hissed, not noticing the uncomfortable squirming coming from the girl underneath him.

"Fuck no Sammy. What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean said, ignoring the girl also.

She cleared her throat, her squirms growing. "I think maybe I should go."

Sam stood up, his gaze never leaving Dean's. "Maybe that would be a good idea Jennifer."

"It's Terry."

"Yeah, whatever." With an indignant huff, the girl left the room, slamming the door behind her.

The brother's faced off, their stances almost identical. Both sized the other up. Both were preparing for a pounce.

"All right Dean. I guess if it bothers you that much," Sam sad, shrugging. He dropped down onto the bed, and picked up the remote. David Letterman filled the screen.

"Like it wouldn't?" Dean said, unable to believe what was happening.

"It never has before. I just assumed you liked it."

"Why would you think I liked it?" Dean said, his brain not even being able to process "it never has before" just yet.

"You never spoke up until now. I guess all of my training has finally paid off. You're changing." Sam leaned back, his laughter joining the crowd's mechanical one as his eyes fixed on Letterman's face.

"Changing? Oh really Sam? Changing as in how?" This should be good.

Sam sat back up, swiveling slightly so he could face Dean. "Well, for starters I haven't seen you cry in the past few hours. Even though I just kicked your ass and left you on the side of the road." A chuckle. "You spoke up instead of just taking it. Maybe all of my ass beatings are starting to sink in."

Dean, for once, was at a loss for words. Had he landed in the Twighlight zone?? He couldn't ask "what the hell" enough today. He stepped forward, having heard enough. In his confusion, he'd almost forgotten about the fight they'd had.

His phone rang, breaking his thoughts and temporarily taking the fight in him. He glanced at the caller ID, then headed towards the door. Sam shrugged, and returned his attention to Letterman.

"Ellen?" Dean said after he had the door closed.

"Not particularly."

"Ash?"

"The one and only."

"What did you find?" Dean asked, not wanting to waste much time.

"Well, judging by the weather patterns and the behavior of the exorcism, by the sounds of it you went up against an Oden."

"A what?"

"An Oden. A powerful demon with the ability to alter time, space, travel, universes-"

"Wait, universes? Like they can create alternate universes?"

Paper ruffled in the background, and he could hear Ash whistling softly. "No, more like they can merge universes, scramble them like eggs."

"So alternate universes do exist?"

"That's the belief, though it hasn't ever been proven. I guess Oden's have been banned from using their abilities, those are things not even demons want to mess with. So powerful, yet very tempermental. Could go bad both ways."

The light clicked on somewhere in Dean's consciousness, and suddenly everything fell into place.

"You said Sam used a Roman Catholic exorcism, right?" Ash asked slowly.

"Yeah?"

"English or Latin?"

"Um, Latin I think, it's all a little fuzzy. Why?"

"And you said the demons exploded? But you couldn't find their bodies?"

"Do you need me to retell the whole story Ash?"

Ash muttered something that Dean didn't quite catch. "No, I just need to make sure. I definitely think you met up with an Oden."

"How do I fix it?" Dean said, his eyes catching a hole in the blinds. He peeked through, finding Sam's head tilted downward as he leaned back on the headboard, his eyes closed.

"Dean, what happened?" Ellen asked, coming on the line. "The Oden didn't get you, did it?"

"I think it might have. Sam has been acting out of sorts since the explosion, and I'm not just talking about normal Sammy weirdness. How do I fix it Ellen?"

"Well I'm not too sure on that right now. I'll keep Ash on it," Dean heard Ash scoff in the background, "and he'll call as soon as he knows something. Dean, you be careful. Who knows what can happen now that the worlds are out of balance."

Dean closed the phone, the warning ringing heavily, and carefully stepped back into the room. Then it hit him, if this wasn't his Sam, then where was he?

**_-Sam-_**

_"You're constantly insulting me, calling me names and pushing me around. Oh, and let's not forget the time you tried to bury me alive after using me as bait to draw in a dead chick. 'No Dean, you have to stay in there too, or she'll get out.'" The last statement came out in a bitter mimic, but Dean's eyes were no longer focused on Sam. They had dropped slightly, and by the far off look he didn't think Dean was even in the room with him anymore. Sam had also noticed Dean's face had lost all color, and he looked about the verge of tipping over. "After I stabbed the chick, holding her in her coffin, I'll never forget your laugh as you shut the coffin lid on me. I was in there for half an hour..." A visible shudder rippled through his brother's form, and his shoulders sank even further._

_Silence fell on the room again, and Dean resumed cleaning. Sam sat, speechless. What the hell was going on? He had never done any of those things. With shaking fingers, he drew his cell phone out of his pocket._

_"Ellen? I need your help."_

"How the hell do you know Ellen?" a gruff voice replied. Sam jumped, not expecting the male voice. He hadn't been paying attention when the phone had been answered, and had completely missed that it hadn't been Ellen.

"This is Ellen's Roadhouse, isn't it?" Sam said, unsure. Had he dialed the wrong number?

"Kid it hasn't been Ellen's in fifteen years. And quite frankly whatever sick joke you're playing, you better knock this shit off."

Another item went down on Sam's list of things gone wrong today. "What do you mean it hasn't been hers? Sir, this is no joke, I was just there a few weeks ago, and she was there."

The dial tone startled him. He'd just been hung up on! Butterflies began to fling themselves at the walls of his stomach, and he became slightly nauseous. Something wasn't right, Ellen might be in trouble. _Crap!_

Slamming his laptop closed, he began to gather his clothes up. Dean had just reassembled the M16, and had started working on the .45. "Come on Dean, we gotta get going."

"Where are we going?"

"To get help."

A few hours later, they were kicking up dust as they pulled into the near empty lot of the Roadhouse. It surprised him considering it was just after five in the afternoon; it should be packed with hunters and drifters. The butterflies then began to stab at his stomach, trying to rip themselves free.

As the uneasiness increased, he was instantly on edge, on alert. Dean didn't seem to notice as they pulled into the lot, his eyes following the way the dust curled up and around the car, its soft tendrils caressing the window beside him.

Momentarily distracted by Dean, Sam missed the movement at his window. Startled back to reality by a tapping on the glass, Sam found himself staring down the barrel of a 9mm Luger. "Get out slowly."

Sam immediately recognized the voice as the one who had hung up on him. _Crap_.

Turning off the car, he decided to leave the keys in the ignition. A hasty exit looked like it might be needed. Dean's eyes were wide, and his hands were already thrown up into the air, regardless of whom the weapon was pointed at.

Sam raised his own arms up, palms exposed. He slowly lowered his left arm and opened the door. The man backed slowly, giving Sam room to move while keeping the shotgun out of Sam's reach. "Are you always this welcoming?"

"I thought I told you never to come back here you sick son of a bitch. That was you on the phone earlier, wasn't it?"

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, his eyes widening.

"Haven't you put me and my daughter through enough?" The man's eyes shifted, glancing at Dean. "Dean, you okay?"

"Yeah Bill, I'm good," Dean replied, his eyes trained on the weapon. He couldn't believe it when they'd pulled in. Sam might have been a jerk, but he was smart enough to know that coming back to the Roadhouse was suicide.

"Bill?" Sam said, searching his memory for the name. It sounded so familiar…

"What, you grown stupid boy?" Bill spat, raising the weapon and aiming for Sam's head.

"Woah woah Bill, can't we just talk this out?" Dean said, coming around the car, hands no longer in the air, but still moving with caution.

"Yeah Bill, how about we talk this out?" Sam asked, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice.

"We're done talking," Bill said. "Now I'm gonna give you one more chance to get the hell out of here before I plant a slug between your eyes."

"Let's go," Dean urged, already climbing back into the passenger seat. Sam shook his head.

"I…well we…need help. I need to talk to Ash."

The gun wavered a bit. "How do you know Ash?"

"Ash has helped me out once or twice," Sam replied, softening his voice, hoping to gain the trust of the threat.

"That's impossible," Bill said, the gun coming back up, leveling with Sam's head. "Ash left before you got here the first time, and he just got back. You've never come face to face, and I know for a fact he doesn't know you."

"Look, I think something really weird is going on," Sam said, desperate for the man to help him. Ash was the only contact he could think of right now that could help him, the only person who seemed to be the same in this messed up universe, and he wasn't about to leave until he had answers. However he was all for leaving with his head still intact. "And I'm not sure what beef you have with me, that's all part of the mess. If you give me five minutes, just five minutes, and if I don't convince you, then I'll leave and you'll never see me again."

Bill's face scrunched as he considered Sam's proposal. Dean stood next to Sam, nodding. "Something weird is going on Bill. Sam's acting different, and it all happened after we killed the demons. Please Bill, five minutes." This time Dean used a wide-eyed, trust-me look…and _it worked_.

Bill gestured towards the Roadhouse. "Five fricken minutes."

**_-Dean-_**

Sam lay on the bed, flinging a small bouncy ball at the wall. It bounced back at him, only to be thrown once more. With a sigh of annoyance, Dean threw his pen down. "Dude."

"What?" Sam asked, his tone thick with boredom.

"Think you could knock that off for five seconds?"

"Five," Sam said, before pitching the ball again. Dean balled his hand into a fist, before carefully placing it in his lap. That would be the last thing he'd need to do is to deck this Sam, no matter how badly he wanted to. But he needed to keep a leash on his anger until he could figure out where his Sam went.

His moment of anger didn't go unnoticed by Sam. "What's the matter Dean?" _Thunk._ "Is this annoying?" _Thunk._

Dean shook his head. "Why no Sam, why ever would you think that?"

Sam shrugged, as if missing the sarcasm. "Just an observation. Ok, so are you done? Or can we get on with the hunting? I swear you worry more than a chick." _Thunk._

"Sure, we can go out and kill whatever it is that we're hunting because I'm so sure that you know all about it. Then maybe afterward we can take dance classes and join the Boy Scouts."

Sam sat up, letting the ball drop. His eyes narrowed as he studied Dean. Something was different, and he decided he liked it. The whiny crying Dean seemed to be gone, replaced by a confident self-assured Dean. He could get use to this. "All right, so maybe it would go faster if I helped."

Dean's eyes widened. "Uh, sure."

"Whatchya got so far?" Sam asked before nabbing the laptop and settling it on his lap. "What's an Oden?"

"That was Ellen's best guess on what we're dealing with."

"Ellen? As in Roadhouse-Bill's-Ellen?"

"What other kind is there?"

"The kind that's dead, that's what kind."

Dean sat up a little straighter. "What do you mean, dead?"

"Oh, I'unno, the Ellen that died while saving Mom's butt."

"Mom?" _That_ he wasn't expecting.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Jeez Dean, did you get amnesia too? Remember Jo told us her mom died while saving our mom on a hunt."

Dean decided to play along. "Oh, right. Well anyway, this is the only thing we have to go on right now so unless you have any better ideas."

"Nope." Sam shut the laptop and tossed it aside. Dean rolled his eyes and scooped up his father's journal.

He'd looked through that thing at least a thousand times, and he was one-hundred percent sure there wasn't any mention of an Oden in there. Regardless, he felt useless and began to thumb through it anyway. His mind began to wander as he half-heartedly looked through the worn pages. Where was Sam? Was he all right? Was he hurt? Was he still alive?

It pissed him off to no end that he had no answers, and was now waiting on a mullet man with his MacGyver laptop for a clue.

_**-Sam-  
**_  
Dean's eyes flicked nervously between the hunters, so sure that a fight would erupt at any moment. The last fight these two had gotten into had been nasty, and had left Sam fighting for his life. He shuddered at the memory, and could still hear the screams being ripped from his own throat. He was told later on by Jo that his pleas were the only thing that had made her father stop, had made his fist still before slamming the final blow. Reguardless of how his wife had died, Bill had had a great respect for Mary, and therefore couldn't help but have that respect for Dean. Sam could go fuck himself.

After tossing them room-temperature beer, Bill swiveled a chair around and dropped into it, leaning forward on the backing. "Well boy, talk."

Sam took a deep breath. "A few days ago, Dean and I arrived at Aubrey to investigate a series of unexplained mass murders. We tracked a pair of demons down to an old warehouse. Well, they tossed us around for a while but I was able to spit out a Catholic exorcism. Instead of the usual black cloud, they exploded."

"Are you sure they were demons?" Bill asked, leaning forward.

"Their black eyes sort of gave them away. Well, when I woke up Dean was sitting over me, uh, crying. And things have been weird ever since."

One eye narrowed, studying Sam. Not once did Sam break eye contact with the older man. "What kind of things have been weird?"

"Well, first of all, Dean was crying. The man never cries, I didn't even think he had tear ducts. Even now he should be yelling at me, telling me that he doesn't cry. But he just sits there like he has been for the past few days. Next, he talks about our mom like she just recently died; when I and every other hunter know for a fact she's been dead ever since I was six months old. And then I come to the Roadhouse to find you, where there should be Ellen. I just feel like everything I've ever known has been flipped backwards, and I can't make sense of any of it."

Bill leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, considering Sam's rushed story. Finally, he tilted his head slightly back, and "Ash!" came out in a hoarse bark.

Sam about choked on the mouthful of beer he'd just attempted to swallow. It was Ash all right, but at the same time it wasn't Ash. His mullet was gone, as was his sleeveless flannel shirt. Instead there was a short, greasy mohawk and a pair of black thick rimmed glasses. The white and blue striped button up shirt looked out of place, and the baggy pants seemed to swallow the man whole. He still carried his MacGyver laptop, and still had his easy-going swagger. As he got closer, Sam could see the small stud in the center of the side of his nose.

"Did you get all that?" Bill asked, his eyes not leaving Sam, who in turn noticed the shotgun remained within easy reach of Bill.

"Yep," Ash replied, taking a seat at the table. He flipped open the laptop, punched in a few keys, and tapped his fingers impatiently on the table as the machine hummed and clicked.

"I've cross-referenced the local weather reports for Aubrey with the exorcism you described, along with the string of violent deaths and the calendar, and added a few of your mysterious side effects to the blast…and I think you're dealing with one of these." Ash spun the laptop so it was facing Sam.

"An Oden?"

The laptop spun back towards Ash. "A very powerful demon with the ability to mess with time, space, reality even."

"What do you mean reality? And you got all of that just from a few details?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Well, some believe that there are such things as alternate dimensions, everyone has their own double, that sort of thing," Bill said, and Ash nodded.

"It's not hard," Ash replied to Sam's second question. "And we've been watching this particular demon for some time, he's a loose cannon."

"So, are you saying that somehow the demon has altered reality? That would actually make sense right about now," Sam said, running his hands down his face. This couldn't be happening. Yet, he knew skepticism in their line of work was a dangerous enemy, so he tried to remain open-minded.

Suddenly a thought struck him, making doubt take root. "We exorcised them both."

"You said so yourself it wasn't a normal exorcism. You ever know of a demon destroyed by a brilliant white light?" Bill asked, studying Sam's reaction.

Sam jumped up, unable to stay seated. "So, you think it didn't die…"

"It's a possibility Sam. I mean, you said so yourself, you think _I've_ been acting funny, when all along it's been you," Dean said gently. "Maybe you're a different Sam."

"That would explain why you're being so…" Ash trailed off after catching a look from Bill.

"Well, thanks for your help Ash, but I think Sam and I need to go out for a walk."

---

"Well, uh, I guess you guys better fill in some blanks," Sam said, shoving his hands into his pockets as they walked towards a small park that lay about a hundred yards down from the Roadhouse.

"Shoot," Dean said, looking a little too eager to begin a demented game of twenty questions.

"All right, let's start simple." Sam cleared his throat, not really sure if there was such a thing as simple anymore. "Did I still go to college?"

"Yep," Dean beamed, "with a full ride too! Mom was so proud, that's why she gave you the Impala so you could go."

"Mom was alive then?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, she wasn't the same after Dad died, but she did the best she could."

"How did Dad die? Start at the beginning." He half expected his older brother to give a sigh of frustration, throw his hands up, and walk away. Instead, Dean's eyes glazed slightly, taking on a far-away look.

"Dad's parents hunted the supernatural all of their lives. Dad embraced it, learning everything he could from his father, a legend in his time. At first when he met Mom, he lied about it, the hunting, the scars, everything. Then one day she came across his journal that had once belonged to his father. By then they were already married, and I was due in about two months." Dean smiled, and his eyes glistened. "It took a few hours of shouting matches and tears, but finally Mom understood. Dad didn't hunt after I was born. He was getting ready to return to the hunt with Mom at his side when they found out she was pregnant again. He swore off hunting for good after you were born. They both agreed that it was time to settle down." Dean spoke slowly, as if sharing a treasured memory.

"Wow Dean, you know all about it don't you?" Sam asked, trying to soak it all in. Dean leaned on the fence post and stared out across the tranquil pond, lit orange by the setting sun. A small blue dragon fly danced softly on the water, creating a small ripple that only lasted four rings. Sam had been watching it, listening to Dean's voice, almost mesmerized.

"Mom used to tell me this story all of the time. There are a few more details, but we can't be out here all day." They both shared a small smile, and Dean continued. "Well on the night that you were exactly six months old, the demon came."

"The yellow eyed one?"

"Yeah. He came for revenge on Dad, for all of the wrongs his parents had done, I guess he had killed a couple of his children. Mom was too late. By the time she got to the nursery, Dad was dead and you were near death. We've been on the road ever since."

"So the demon didn't come for me? It came for Dad?"

"Well, the more we uncover, the more you seem to think the demon is after you, Dad was just the icing on the cake. In the end we discovered that the demon is not after you, but you sort of always did think the world evolved around you. Every supernatural being we came across was in it just to get a piece of you," Dean finished, his eyes lowering.

"In the end?"

"Yeah, after we killed the demon that had killed Dad."

"Wow…this is all just…I can't even…You killed yellow eyes?" Sam let his train of thought derail, and for a moment allowed himself to just be there. If everything Dean said was true, then he really was in some sort of alternate place. It hit him then, if he was there, where was his Dean? Was he hurt? Did he make it out of the explosion? Was this Sam there then? How was he going to get home? Unanswered questions flew too quickly, draining his will to find those answers. There was just too many. He was so screwed. "So Sam Winchester in this world is a bit of an asshole, huh?"

Dean laughed softly, "I guess you could say that."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Dean said, his gaze dropping even further to study his feet.

_Man,_ thought Sam, _I'm definitely not in the right world._

"Tell me about your world," Dean said suddenly, his eyes darting up, staring into Sam's, eager.

Sam chuckled, and began, "Well, first of all, it's _your_ car…"

---SN---

Thanks for coming out to play. Hope to see you back soon. -grin-


	6. Dare to Leave

Hey guys! Still with me? Good! -grin-

Going to reapply the warning, there's a wee bit 'o language in this little bit. The names apply to our boys...enjoy! Thanks for playing.

* * *

_**-Dean-**_

The blonde giggled as he whispered in her ear, and the pair swayed slightly, completely ignoring the fact that you can't slow dance to The Grundy County Auction by some country singer Dean couldn't identify.

He watched in amazement from the sidelines. This Sam was something else, nothing like his. He'd never admit it of course, but he preferred his quiet-natured, compassionate younger brother to this rash, hard-spoken pistol, waiting to be fired. He took a swig of his beer, his eyes never leaving the only couple on the floor.

The blonde giggled again and leaned closer, whispering in Sam's ear. Sam's face lit up and he nodded. With a spin of her bleached hair, the girl was headed towards the back, Sam in tow. Sam threw a thumbs up to Dean over his shoulder, and let himself be dragged off of the dance floor. Dean shook his head, and turned back towards the bar. It would go against every rule in the Big Brother's Handbook to deny his brother a little piece of tail, no matter how badly he wanted to, plus it would just be uncool. He shook his head and huffed soflty, after all he never thought he'd be faced with this dilemma.

"Where do you think yer goin'?"

_Oh shit._

Not wanting to, but knowing that he had to, Dean spun back towards the sound of the voice. His rash, hard-spoken younger brother was staring down a small army of leather-clad bikers. The flirtatious blonde was now cowering behind them, fear in her eyes as she watched the confrontation.

"Well, if you must know, I was going take Missy out back and show her my rock collection."

"You think this is funny boy? You think you can just take off with another man's girl?" one guy said, his face inches from Sam's. He was about an inch taller, but could probably overpower the younger Winchester with a pinky. Dean was pretty sure, just judging by his size, that the man probably carried his motorcycle everywhere he went.

_Don't say it Sam,_ Dean thought as he stood, and started slowly making his way towards the fray.

The jukebox died, seeming as if even it was waiting for an answer. Sam leaned to the side a bit, his gaze leisurely traveling up and down the girl's body. Then he straightened again, looked right into the leader's eyes, and smacked his lips. "Yep."

"Why you little-!" the bald man shouted, his fingers outstretched and reaching for an exposed throat. Sam laughed lightly as he jumped to the side, causing his would-be attacker to stumble forward and come crashing onto one knee. What he must not have counted on were the other seven bikers, all ready to pounce. They rushed Sam all at once, quickly taking him down.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean spat as he circled the flurry of bodies, searching for signs of the man buried. The patrons of the bar scurried out of the way as the mob of flying fists and grunts began to move, dragging its victim with it. Dean quickly caught sight of his brother, right before Sam was grabbed by the throat and body slammed into a table, which shattered and collapsed on impact. Small chunks of wood went flying, showering any remaining onlookers and eliciting a collective gasp.

Dean jumped up onto the back of the man who had slammed the other Winchester, and began to pummel the back of his head. The guy grunted, his arm quickly snaking around and catching Dean by surprise. He was yanked from the man's back, and soon found himself flat on his back. As stars danced in his vision, as he fought to catch his breath, he caught sight of Sam, flying through the air once again. His tall form slammed into the juke box, kick starting it back to life. 'The River' by Garth Brooks began to play, sounding horribly out of place as the bar burst into an all out brawl.

"Everyone _freeze_!"

Those two, simply spoken words were said with enough authority to make the whole tavern come to a standstill. Dean's gaze flew towards the door, where about five uniformed cops stood. The man standing in the center had a shotgun casually resting on his shoulder, his fierce gaze sweeping across the room, stopping to rest on the biker with the slutty girlfriend.

"Now TJ, what did I tell you about starting brawls in my favorite bar?"

"Aw Mike, we was just havin' some fun."

While the gang was distracted, Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder and started dragging him towards the back. He couldn't be arrested, neither of them could. After the drama in St. Louis, then after the bank hold up in Minnesota, he'd be screwed if he got arrested now. Sam wouldn't even be able to get away after the mess in Baltimore.

As quickly as they could, they crouched and made their way towards the back, finding a dimly lit hallway ending with a door that simply stated "Employees Only".

"Come on Sam," Dean grunted, yanking his lanky brother behind him. Sam was slightly swaying, grabbing at his head.

"I'm coming, get your damn hands off of me." His voice was raspy, thanks to the large hands that had wrapped themselves around his vocal chords.

They made it through the back office and out into the alley before Sam stumbled, falling to his knees.

"We gotta keep going," Dean said, reaching for his brother again.

"Can't," Sam gasped, clutching at his head.

Dean stopped, unable to realize why he hadn't recognized the signs before. He was having a vision.

Sam grunted as the vision took form, sadistically shaking the garbage can in the corner of the alley until it warped and disappeared.

_It was like an out of body experience. He'd never felt anything like it before. The world that lay before him was strange, unfamiliar, yet he felt like he knew everything about it. _

Crumbled buildings sat desolate before him, allowing the light from the dying sun to lay zigzag patterns across the broken ground. The wind whipped past him, grabbing his clothes and tearing at his hair. 

What the hell had happened?

_Sam leaned in closer to inspect the nearest pile of debris, but before he knew it the world in front of him was dissolving, falling apart like a sand castle under the tide. The sand shifted and took shape once more. _

"Talk about feeling like a third wheel," Sam muttered to himself without a hint of humor. He was staring at himself, staring at himself. Two Sam's stood in front of him, facing off, almost looking ready to fight. The wind whipped around them, stealing their heated words. He wondered at the fourth appearance of a Sam, though he was faint, he stood on the other side of the dueling Sams.

He edged closer, trying to catch something, anything. Before he was violently shoved out of the vision, he caught one small sentence. It was enough to make his blood run cold.

**_-Sam-_**

"You got anything yet Ash?" Bill yelled over his shoulder.

"He's a slippery bastard," Ash replied, still plugging away at his laptop. "Just when I think I've got a lock on him, he ninjas out."

"Well keep trying," Bill said, his gaze locking back on the boys standing at the edge of the lake.

After a few moments of silence, Bill cleared his throat. "What do you make of Sam's story?"

His eyes never leaving the screen, Ash replied, "I think he took one too many knocks to the head."

"I'm not so sure about that," Bill said, dropping his larger frame into a stool next to Ash's. "I mean, Sam has jerked us around before, but what would he have to gain by this? It wouldn't make any sense."

"He's never really been one that we could trust to be sane," Ash said, his gaze locking with the barkeep's.

"I just wish Dean didn't follow him around like a doe-eyed worshipping puppy. That boy is too smart and skilled to be treated the way he is. That fool of a brother is going to get him killed."

"Mm-hmm," Ash said, clearly not interested in Winchester 101.

-

Sam studied his brother for a moment, and for the first time really noticed. Dean held himself with a bit of a slouch, and looked like a puppy waiting for the next kick. He swallowed hard, remembering the older man's words.

"Dean?" he said softly, and was relieved when he didn't jump.

"What's up?"

"Well, I was just wondering why you let Sam push you around all the time?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Excuse me?" Sam returned, unable to comprehend.

"Well, the times I've tried to stand up to him, he just fights me, normally beats the crap out of me."

"Did Mom ever really teach us how to fight?"

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment, as if deciding how to best answer. "Well, she tried, but Dad really hadn't taught her all that much before...well anyway, we weren't really taught. You fight dirty anyway."

"Listen to me Dean. When this is all over, when we've all returned to our rightful worlds, this has got to stop. You can't let your little brother beat you around anymore. Stand up to him! He's just a bully, and you need to make him understand that you're not the scared little kid giving up his lunch money. You don't deserve it, no one does."

Dean stayed silent, his eyes trained on the ground once again.

"That's another thing," Sam continued. "Look at me."

Dean obliged and raised his head. "From now on I want you staring the world in the face, no more looking down, got it?"

Dean nodded, and gulped, but kept his head up.

"Think you can do it?"

Dean nodded again. Sam shook his head, not buying it.

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I'm not going to let Sam push me around," Dean mumbled.

Sam pushed him lightly in the shoulder, and said, "Try again."

Raising his voice a bit, Dean repeated, "I'm not going to let him push me around."

"Bullshit," Sam said, pushing him again, a bit harder this time.

"He's not the boss of me!" Dean yelled suddenly and let his fist fly. With a surprised jerk Sam fell back and landed on the ground, just barely avoiding an unpleasant hit to the chin.

"Oh shit man, you ok?" Dean said, reaching down to help Sam back to his feet.

"Perfect!" Sam yelled, grabbing his brother's offered hand.

Dean grinned, rubbed the back of his head but continued to stare Sam down. They both let out a laugh, and Sam slapped Dean lightly on the shoulder as they turned back towards the lake. A moment of silence passed between the two, while Sam silently hoped that this Dean was going to be ok. If he ever met the alternate Sam face to face...

"So where to from here?" Dean asked, watching as a fish jumped from the pond, its body catching the sunlight as it arched in search of bugs on the surface.

"We have to find the demons, kill them, and reverse whatever is happening," Sam stated simply, wishing it wasn't easier said than done.

"How do we find them?"

"Well hopefully Ash is working on something."

"Do you know how to kill them?"

"Not yet, exorcism obviously didn't work."

"Do you really have to go back?"

The last question had completely caught Sam off guard. "I guess, why?"

"Well, it's just that you seem to really care about me. It's almost as if we're actually brothers again, like before Mom died. I mean, sure we had our differences and argued, but you actually loved me then. Would it be so terrible…I mean…would it really be that bad if you never made your way home? If you just…if you just stayed here? With me?"

Sam's eyes widened gradually as all spilled forth from his brother. "Dean, man, look, I would love to stay here with you. The me in this world obviously has some problems, ones you two need to work out. But I can't stay here, I don't belong. This has got to be tipping some cosmic scale way off, one that is bound to have consequences."

"Well what if this is happening for a reason? What if you are supposed to be here?"

"Man, I understand where you're going, I really do. But you can't forget I was sent here by demons. Nothing about that can be right."

"I know," Dean sighed. He opened his mouth as if to continue, but fell silent once more.

"Sam! Dean! Ash's got something!"

Bill's yell had cut off their conversation for the moment, but Sam swore silently that he would finish it. "We aren't finished discussing this, ok?" Sam promised, but he could tell that Dean didn't believe him.

Sam jogged up the hill, reaching the Roadhouse before realizing Dean was still a distance behind him. Shaking his head, he disappeared inside.

"Whatchya got?" he asked eagerly, making his way to where Ash stood. A large map laid spread across the table in front of him, and several large red circles were drawn.

Dean made his way into the Roadhouse, taking a moment to make sure they were all distracted. He couldn't lose this Sam, he wouldn't. This Sam would stay here, he had to, Dean couldn't go back to the way it was. He refused to. He may have let out the burst of anger outside, but if his Sam came back, they would fall right back into place.

Easing his way up to the laptop, he watched for acknowledgement of his presence. When none came, when Ash simply continued to explain the circles to Sam and Bill, Dean got within striking distance of the laptop. Carefully picking it up, he set it on the edge, watching as it teetered precariously. With a small smile, he made his way back to the group, inserting himself into the small circle so he could see the map.

A loud crash could be heard, and Sam was pretty sure he knew what it was before he even turned around. Ash's "Ah fuck." confirmed it, and Sam's stomach dropped.

In a million pieces, on the sticky floor of the Roadhouse, lay Ash's laptop.

"No no no!" Ash said, his hands waving in the air above the deceased computer. "What the hell happened?"

"Not sure," Dean replied, a little too quickly.

"Ash…you didn't happen to back up any of the information you found, did you?" Sam asked apprehensively, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"I didn't have time!" Ash almost wailed, his voice raising two octaves. "It's going to take forever to find all of the pieces!"

"No," Sam said, clutching at the table, dropping into one of the chairs. This was not happening. This couldn't be happening. No, this was some horrible dream…the laptop _did not_ just fall off of the bar…

Panic set in, and for a moment he gave into the idea that he really wasn't going to go home. A dull throb began between his eyes, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. The pain intensified, spreading to the area just behind his eyes. He sucked in a breath as the Roadhouse began to tilt and jump, and for a moment he wished Bill would stand still.

"Sam?" The question faded into nothing, until all he could hear was the pain.

_Crumbled buildings sat desolate before him, allowing the light from the dying sun to lay zigzag patterns across the broken ground. The wind whipped past him, grabbing his clothes and tearing at his hair._

What the hell had happened?

_Sam leaned in closer to inspect the nearest pile of debris, but before he knew it the world in front of him was dissolving, falling apart like a sand castle under the tide. The sand shifted and took shape once more. _

Two Sam's stood in front of him, facing off, almost looking ready to fight. The wind whipped around them, stealing their heated words. He wondered at the fourth appearance of a Sam, though he was faint, he stood on the other side of the dueling Sams.

Sam edged closer, trying to catch something, anything. Before he was violently shoved out of the vision, he caught one small sentence.

It was enough to make his blood run cold. 

---SN---

Thanks again! Hopefully I'll have the next part up in the next few days. Happy Hunting! -grin-

Kris


	7. Diggin' In Those Heels

Hi guys! We're speeding up now, all the action should be coming soon. Hope you all enjoy!

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far. Normally I send personal replys, but I have been slacking there the past few updates. But thank you to all who have reviewed!

Something I forgot to add to the last chapter: I know it is WELL known that Sam's visions are related to the demon...but I couldn't help giving both of them one here, with no YED to be found. Needed something to set the boys on edge, in an 'oh crap' sort of way.

* * *

**_--Dean--_**

_As quickly as they could, they crouched and made their way towards the back, finding a dimly lit hallway ending with a door that simply stated "Employees Only"._

_"Come on Sam," Dean grunted, yanking his lanky brother behind him. Sam was slightly swaying, grabbing at his head._

_"I'm coming, get your damn hands off of me." His voice was raspy, thanks to the large hands that had wrapped themselves around his vocal chords._

_They made it through the back office and out into the alley before Sam stumbled, falling to his knees._

_"We gotta keep going," Dean said, reaching for his brother again._

_"Can't," Sam gasped, clutching at his head._

_Dean stopped, unable to realize why he hadn't recognized the signs before. He was having a vision._

"That…has…never…" Sam panted as Dean helped him to the bed. He was shaken, and the walk back from the bar had been a freakin' joy. Halfway home, Dean had decided he'd had enough of Sam's faulty footsteps and had taken up an arm to support him. Dean grumbled slightly as he supported the swaying form, glad for once the boy hadn't started bitching. It amazed the older hunter that he'd had the patience to put up with this one. Maybe it was because the monster wore the face of his younger brother. And at this point, Dean wasn't sure if the alternate version would be needed to get his brother back.

Sam's breath hitched again. "Calm down Sam, what happened? What did you see?"

Sam glanced up, suddenly suspicious. "How did you know I saw anything?"

"Well, that's what normally happens when you have…wait a second…what do you mean how do I know?" Dean suddenly realized he had no clue what this Sam had been through. What if he hadn't told his Dean about the visions?

"Whatever the hell happened to me in the alley has never happened before. It was like watching a really bad, out of focus movie in my head," Sam replied, pointing to his head for dramatic effect. "And it _hurt_."

"Yeah, it was kind of creepy," Dean said, rolling with the flow. "You sort of blanked out but you weren't making a lot of sense, but you looked like you were studying something. What did you see?"

Whether he wanted to accept Dean's lame attempt at a cover up or not, he didn't feel like fighting it. "I saw two versions of me. They were standing off, almost as if they were going to fight, yelling. Then on the other side of them was a faint version of myself. A bunch of shape shifters maybe?"

"So you saw a total of three yous?"

"Did I stutter?"

"Jeez Sam, calm down. Just trying to get it all straight, it just doesn't make sense."

"Yeah, I know, hopefully that was a one time deal. I don't need to turn into one of the freaks we hunt."

The last sentence made Dean's heart skip a beat. His brother was not a freak. And how dare Sam call his brother…

He shook his head, steming the flow of thoughts, and released a small smile. This was getting insane.

_If it's the last thing I do…I'm going to save you…_

It hadn't been so long ago that Dean had made that promise to Sam, and he restated it, etching that promise in just a little deeper.

"You said that they were yelling? Did you catch anything?"

_Before he was violently shoved out of the vision, he caught one small sentence. It was enough to make his blood run cold._

"Yeah, one of them was shouting something about the world ending. That the worlds were out of balance and things had to be righted. He was calling the other one insane. What do you think it meant? Oh shit my head…" Sam said, and lay back on the bed, not waiting for an answer from Dean.

Dean studied the Sam that lay before him. His brother had always pushed on through the pain, had never given in, had never complained, and had even tried to hide it. This one..._man what a pansy with a mask._ It was time to get his Sam back.

"Hey, make yourself useful and go get some Advil, my head is killing me," the other, useless Sam said, not even opening his eyes.

"Nope, sorry _Sammy_, on my way out. Afraid you're going to have to get it yourself." His brother's angry reply was cut off as Dean shut the door.

Reaching in his pocket as he headed for the Impala, he pulled out his phone. "Ash? Anything yet?"

"You know, I probably would have something, if I didn't have so many interruptions," Ash replied, a bite in his voice. Dean could hear Ellen in the background, chiding him.

Dean smiled, crossed his arms and leaned against the Impala. "Sorry Ash, but Sam just had a vision about the world possibly ending. Is that an incentive to speed the process up a bit?"

There was a pause. "World ending? Damnit, and here I thought I was going to live to see my thirtieth birthday. Why is everything so dramatic with you-"

"Dean?" Ash was cut off by Ellen grabbing the phone. Dean was pretty sure it was the "world ending" part that nabbed her attention.

"Ellen?"

"Yeah. Now what is going on?"

"Well, Sam had a vision. I think the world is about to end. Or that's what the him in the vision said. He said that the worlds have been thrown out of balance, and that it's going to end."

"Ash, get your ass moving," Ellen fired. Ash could be heard grumbling in the background, and Dean laughed at the muffled yelling of Ellen. "Don't worry Dean, I'll keep him going. You just watch Sam. Does he know?"

"No, I've been keeping it from him."

"That might be wise for now. We're not sure what this Sam is capable of, so you need to keep an eye on him."

Carefully Dean fingered his nose, poking at the still-tender cartilage. "Yeah, that's all he'd need to find out. 'Sam, I believe you've been switched with an alternate you.' I'm sure that'd go over real well."

"I'm sure it will," a voice answered in a nochalant way.

Dean looked up, to find Sam leaning casually against the other side of the Impala.

"Ellen, gotta call ya back."

Sam waited until Dean snapped the phone closed before going off. "What the hell was that all about Dean? You keeping shit from me now? Alternate self? Have you cracked?"

"I can explain-"

"Is that why you're so different? Because I've been thrown into an alternate universe? Is that how you were able to talk to dead Ellen? Is it because of that…uh…Oden thing?"

_Sammy always was a quick one._ "Listen, Sam-"

"Oh, this could be good!" Sam exclaimed, taking a very quick liking to a situation he didn't understand. "Think about it Dean, we'll be that much better of a team! You're not the pussy that you are in my world, you're ruthless man. And you've been lying, shows you have one hell of a backbone. I'm sick of crying-Jello-Dean. We'll be the perfect team."

"So that vision you had about the world ending means nothing to you? Don't you think it's a little unnatural that you are here and my Sam is in your world?"

"Screw that man, who gives a flying fuck? Obviously you and I were meant to come together."

"No, a demon did this. There is nothing natural about it." He couldn't believe this Sam was ready to accept what had happened, and more than willing to stay.

"Come on man, we would have an awesome time."

"It's just not right Sam."

"Well fuck you Dean, I am not going back."

---

**_--Sam--_**

_In a million pieces, on the sticky floor of the Roadhouse, lay Ash's laptop._

_"No no no!" Ash said, his hands waving in the air above the deceased computer. "What the hell happened?"_

_"Not sure," Dean replied, a little too quickly._

_"Ash…you didn't happen to back up any of the information you found, did you?" Sam asked apprehensively, not sure if he wanted to know the answer._

_"I didn't have time!" Ash almost wailed, his voice raising two octaves. "It's going to take forever to find all of the pieces!"_

_"No," Sam said, clutching at the table, dropping into one of the chairs. This was not happening. This couldn't be happening. No, this was some horrible dream…the laptop_ did not_ just fall off of the bar…_

_Panic set in, and for a moment he gave into the idea that he really wasn't going to go home. A dull throb began between his eyes, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. The pain intensified, spreading to the area just behind his eyes. He sucked in a breath as the Roadhouse began to tilt and jump, and for a moment he wished Bill would stand still._

Sam sat with his head in his hands, shaking slightly. First the laptop, now this apocalyptic vision. When had things gotten so screwed up?

"Here Sam."

Sam slowly raised his head, to find a glass of water and two little blue pills being offered his way. Large eyes watched him, pleading, though Sam wasn't sure what his brother was pleading for.

"Dean, I'll be fine," he replied to the unspoken worry, taking the glass and the pills.

"You look like you're in so much pain though. Was it something I did?" Dean asked, fearful that it had been over the broken laptop. What had he done? What was he even thinking?

"No Dean, it wasn't you. This is just something I deal with occasionally. You've never seen one of my visions before?"

"One of your what?" Bill asked, coming from the back room. He eyed Sam suspiciously, as if he should suddenly be wary.

_Great...just when I was beginning to gain his trust..._"One of my headaches. They hit suddenly, and go away just leaving a dull ache," Sam covered quickly. Maybe there was a reason the people in this reality didn't know about his visions, not even Dean.

"But Sam, you said-"

"Dean, let it go, I'll be alright."

Sam let his head drop into his palms again, and deciding not to raise it again until the pain meds had begun to work. He pondered his vision, not really sure what it had meant.

_Before he was violently shoved out of the vision, he caught one small sentence. It was enough to make his blood run cold._

The world was going to end. Just by him being there, he had thrown the ying and yang of the two worlds out of balance.

Leave it up to him to bring on the end of the world, he might never live this down with Dean if they survived.

---

**_--Dean--_**

Sam walked down the sidewalk, his hands angrily thrust into the pockets of his jacket. So he was in an alternate universe, was he? Well there was no way in hell he was going back. This Dean was just too good to be true. He just had to bring him around, that was it.

And he would.

---

"Well what now Marcus?"

"Calm down Simon, everything is going to be alright."

"You said they wouldn't be able to figure it out. Shit, they even know about Odens!"

"_Calm down_ Simon."

"No Marcus. No, not this time. We fucked up, badly, and now we're going to die."

Marcus sat silently, letting the moment drag. "Are you done?"

"Tell me how we're going to fix this."

"Simple," Marcus said with a smile. "We will continue to mess with them. We've already taken them out of their elements. So we will now put them back."

"We'll what? What the hell did that accomplish? You've lost it old man."

"Ever wonder why someone being tortured has their head dunked into the water, time and time again? The first time you pull them back up, you push them back under before they've had time to catch their breath. It's a very effective method. We just won't allow the hunters to catch their breath."

"Head under water...what? Why can't we just kill them?"

"And miss all the fun?"

"I thought this was all about killing them? Making ourselves higher up on the food chain?"

"Honestly, where's your sense of adventure? We'll be legends for this. Besides, killing them would just be the easy way out," Marcus said simply, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his chair. He was having too much fun, it wasn't time to kill the playthings just yet.

Simon scoffed, crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to move an inch.

"Oh come on old buddy; let's have a bit of fun," Marcus tried again. He needed Simon with him on this one, couldn't do it without him.

"You know that's how most of the demons fail, no, no, we aren't going to do this!"

"Most demons get cocky, they get stupid. We won't."

"How do you know that?"

"Because you're a stick the mud. We'll be fine because of you."

---

**_--Dean--_**

The sign to the motel loomed in front of him, as he slowly made his way back to the small room. He'd stormed off from Dean earlier, but now he was sure he could bring his brother around. He had to.

He was not going to go back. He'd fight tooth and nail. He'd die first. He'd-

Suddenly he wasn't alone.

"A bit chilly for a walk, isn't it?"

Scowling, Sam met the crinkled eyes of an older man. "Go away old man."

"Surely you don't mind if I join you for a bit."

"I'm not in the mood. Go. Away."

Marcus tried again, deciding to play the odds. "I know what's happening Sam."

"How the hell do you know my name?" the hunter stopped, fully facing the demon. He knew that face…

"Oh how quickly you forget your fallen foes Sam." Black eyes flashed while mouth widened into a cruel smile.

"You're the Oden," Sam said, beginning to back away. Shit, the motel was still two blocks down; he'd never reach the Impala and Dean in time. Damn it he'd been a fool to leave unprotected.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I honestly just want to help. See, I know about your desire. You want to stay in this world. I could hear your secret desire for help long before I made this possible. You hated your world."

"Why would you want to help me?"

"Simple: immunity. I'm not an idiot. I believe in return for you being able to keep this precious world, that you will gladly stop hunting me and my colleague."

"You're an idiot if you think I'm going to stop."

"Fine. Go back to your world. Go back to your brother, your pathetic life, it will only take a minute."

"You wouldn't. I will hunt your ass in either world. Only if you return me? I will make it as slow and painful as possible. Either way old man, you're dead."

A shadow appeared across the street, and Sam recognized him as the demon's partner from the warehouse. He waived in their direction, and his teeth flashed as his face broke out into a wide smile. Pain blossomed in the center of Sam's chest, and he folded in protectively as he grasped at his chest.

The demon's voice surrounded him as he fell to his knees. His vision was dimming, the pain spreading and spiking. Was he having a heart attack? That would just be perfect, it really would.

"You won't kill me, you need me. And you will see how serious I am. Let me know if you want this back. You'll know where to find me."

The world faded.

---

**_--Sam--_**

Sam began to rub his chest, where the hell had that pain come from? It was growing, the intensity making him gasp for breath. He tipped forward and hit the hardened floor of the Roadhouse, panting as his vision dimmed. Bill and Dean's voices echoed around him, their alarmed yells fading to nothing.

-

He slowly became aware. He was still on his hands and knees, but instead of staring at the scuffed floor, he was staring at a slightly dampened sidewalk. Where was he now?

He stood slowly, brushing at his now damp jeans. He spun around, looking for something, anything vaguely familiar. A motel sign shimmered in the distance, flickering as the "O" and the "L" fought to remain lit. That was the motel that just last week his brother had insisted they check into, the cockroach infested one.

No freakin' way…

He began to run towards the sign, picking up his pace when he spotted the Impala in the parking lot. Which room had they rented? Oh, right. Running up to the door, he searched his pockets for the keys.

A key card was in his back pocket, and he quickly slid it into the slot, and pushed the door open.

Dean sat in the center of the room, reclining in a chair with his feet propped on a bed, the laptop on his lap. He glanced up, a look of anger crossing his features.

"Where the hell did you run off to?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah, it's me, who else? We aren't finished with our discussion." Dean stood, setting the laptop on the bed. Sam caught sight of a game of poker on the screen.

"Oh man, it's so good to see you," Sam said, sure he was looking at his Dean. At lease he _hoped_ it was his Dean.

"Oh, you mean after you stormed off?" Dean paused, studying Sam. "What happened to you? What the hell is up with that smile on your face?"

"Oh you wouldn't believe it man. I think I got sent to some alternate universe."

"Yeah, I just told you that."

"No, Dean, I don't think you understand. It's me. I think I'm back in the right universe."

Dean walked closer, his eyes boring into the younger's. "Sam?"

Sam nodded.

"Holy hell dude, oh man is it good to see you!"

---

"Sam, are you ok?"

He heard the voice; he just didn't want to acknowledge it. He was staring at a hardwood floor, and his brother's boots. The sidewalk was gone.

No, no, no!

Hands began to pull at him, urging him up. He came face to face with a wide, frightened pair of eyes he'd grown to hate.

"Dean?'

"Yeah?"

"Shit."

* * *

So the boys have been returned...well that can't be good...

Thanks for reading!

Kris


	8. Plottin' and Dealin'

Hey guys!

I am so sorry that I couldn't reply individually to you guys this time. I really appreciate all of the comments, and the support, I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this.

This next chapter is kind of short, so I will try to put the next one up in the next few days.

This chapter is also dedicated to Alisa. This girl supports me like no other, and no matter what is happening in my life and hers, I can always turn to her for support. Girl, I love ya!! I can no longer walk by any form of rope without giggling...

Same warnings and disclaimers...I don't owe them and there's the possibility of some swearing...

* * *

**_---Sam&Dean---_**

"I what?"

"You cried, a lot."

Dean's jaw dropped, and Sam nodded, laughing.

"Well, how the hell did you get back?" Dean said, smoothly changing the subject.

"I'm not sure. One minute I was sitting in the Roadhouse, across from Bill, and the next-"

"Wait, who?"

"Ellen's husband. Yeah, long story there. But basically everyone who is dead here was alive there." Sam sat on the bed, and for a moment his mind flashed back to the Roadhouse he'd left.

"Well it was an alternate universe. Dude, I cried?"

"Yeah, it was pretty sad," Sam said, laughing again.

"We're never mentioning it again."

"Alright, sure."

Dean gave him a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Sam. Besides, that wasn't even me."

Sam laughed, and started sniffling. "Sure Dean," he said with fake tears in his voice. "Sure, it wasn't."

And before Dean could fire back, Sam smirked and uttered a quick, "Bitch."

**_---Guess Who?---_**

"This is all fucking wrong," Sam said, pacing the length of the bar.

"Is everything all right Sam? Are you okay? Are you hurting?" Dean asked, fearfully coming up from behind him.

"Give me some time to…I have to think this over…I have to…the demon…" Thoughts were swirling through his head, panic fueling their speed, clashing like they were trying to get out of a burning building. He just had to calm down and think for a moment. He had been thrust back into the hell he had grown to hate over his short life span. Dean was pacing behind him, fretting even more than usual.

"What happened? Did you have another episode?"

Finally unable to stand his brother's incessant mutterings, Sam snapped.

"Get the hell away from me! God, you're so pathetic!! The only reason you've made it this far in life is because I've carried your ass! Well that shit stops here. I'm leaving Dean, and you _will not_ follow me. I swear if I see you in my review mirror, I will kill you."

"Sam, I don't understand-"

"Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone."

Dean watched through liquid filled eyes as his brother stormed out. Within seconds the Impala roared to life, but within seconds its familiar purr faded into the distance, and Dean knew deep down he would never hear it again.

Stumbling over to the chair his brother had vacated and collapsing into it, Dean let the tears fall, not caring enough to wipe them away. Numbness took hold of him then, all of his pain disappearing in a wave of sorrow. Anger should have consumed him, sadness, anything. Even the tears began to dry, leaving small tracks down his cheeks. He felt abandoned, broken, and completely hopeless.

"Dean?" Bill asked, coming out of the backroom, his gaze darting nervously from the distraught hunter to the rest of the empty bar. "What happened?"

"I think I just lost my brother."

**_---Yep...Guess Again---_**

Sam drove until darkness consumed the sky, his heart pounding so intensely he thought he was going to pass out. Or puke. Maybe both. Maybe he'd drown in his vomit and all the problems would be over. With his luck, he was bound to leave the world in some demeaning way.

His nervousness was brought on by one simple fact: he had never intentionally gone looking for a demon before, not one he intended to let live anyway. Seek and destroy had always been his mission, this time was different: he'd be damned if he lost the perfect world he'd seen. It had felt so right for him to be there. He'd felt different, needed, accepted. And it had almost seemed as if he was Dean's world, something special to be protected. Oh he had felt the other Dean's overwhelming protectiveness…and he needed it now. For some reason he craved it. He had never needed anyone before, so this shocked him.

Suddenly realizing he had almost passed the point. Pulling the Impala over, he cut the engine and sat for a moment, counting the clicks of the engine as it cooled. About eleven clicks and even the Impala fell silent.

Stepping out onto the cracked asphalt of the abandoned road, he studied his surroundings. Dark trees that had once reached for the sky bent slightly in age, casting a dark shadow over the road. Goose bumps formed along his arms and up his back as the wind swept through the enclosed passageway. The darkness seemed to grow, and before long he couldn't see the beginning or the end of the road.

"Sammy, Sammy, little Sammy."

Sam spun, trying to find the voice that was echoing through the stillness. His heart began to jackhammer its panic in his chest, like it was trying to burst free.

"Look who comes crawling back to the sugar cube like a little bug."

"Show yourself," Sam fired, managing to keep his voice surprisingly steady.

A figure materialized, making Sam's strained heart almost give out. He leaned slightly against the driver's door of his beloved car, willing his weak legs not to give out.

"You ruined my life."

"No, you did that to yourself." The demon's carefree attitude was really starting to bug the hunter.

Finding a bit of strength in his anger, Sam lifted his weight from the side of the Impala. Taking a step forward, he forced his arms to remain at his sides. He needed to be smart about this. Going off and showing the demon what was what would have been stupid, and would get him killed.

"What exactly were you smoking when you decided to trade us? What did you gain by switching us, only to bring us back?"

Marcus laughed, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. "I believe this was decided over a bottle of tequila actually. I had much to gain. But that's not why you came out here, is it? You don't care about my reasons for wanting to switch you. You want it back."

"Why would I want to go back there? I have everything I want right here."

"Bluff all you want Sam, it won't change what I see in you."

"Oh yeah? And what is it you think you see?"

"I see a young man who hates himself. You hate what your brother has become. You hate life. I gave you a glimpse of what you could have, of what you've been needing. You are not meant to be a part of this world Sam. Think of what you could become, of what you and Dean could accomplish. The brother you saw on the other side, he's the other half to your perfect world. In fact, I'm pretty sure the last time _he_ ever shed a tear was when he saw what sort of shape his precious car was in after the accident."

"What do you want from me?"

"Oh you know us pesky demons. Nothing is for free."

"What…do you want…_from me_…" Sam felt his anger rising and was having a hard time keeping in leashed.

"As I discussed earlier, I want a sort of immunity from you. I want to be able to run and play, without worrying about you or your brother. You promise me that, and I will give you back the world you are so desperately craving."

"You expect me to turn a blind eye?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Oh Sammy, you are not seeing the bigger picture. There is a world full of demonic foes out there; I'm simply asking you to overlook one small player. You can do that, can't you?"

"That's it? All I have to do is not find your ass and fry it?"

"Yes. Think about what you're giving up, just to kill one lousy demon," Marcus reasoned. He knew he had this deal in the bag, but he wanted to make sure Sam was with him before became too cocky.

"Where do I sign?"

The demon chuckled. "All in good time Sam, all in good time."

"First you come here offering the deal to me, now you're telling me to be patient?" Sam spat.

"This is going to take time. Now be a good little boy and I'll be back for you."

"You better hurry demon. I've got an itchy trigger finger, and won't wait long."

_**---Back to the Boys---**_

"I don't think this is over Dean."

"You just got back, so can we take this one step at a time please?" Inside, Dean was still celebrating the fact that Sam was standing in front of him, alive and well. As usual, his brother was jumping all over the next problem before they could enjoy their victory. Who cares how it happened? It happened, they could now kill the idiotic demon, and move on.

"We may not have that amount of time."

"What are you talking about?"

"I had a vision, while I was in the other world. There was two of me, facing off. Screaming about the end of the world. I don't think we've seen the last of this thing."

"He told me about that too."

"Who?"

"The other Sam. He told me a little about the vision, about the part where the world ends."

"He must have been the other Sam." Sam stood from his perch on the bed, beginning to pace the length of the room. "While I was watching the two Sams, there was another faint Sam across from me."

"So there were four of you all at once?"

"I think so."

"Jeez, and just when I thought it was safe. _Four_ of you?"

"Come on Dean, be serious."

"Oh I'm trying! But don't you think this situation is all around jacked up? Dude, sometimes you just have to laugh."

Sam smiled and shook his head. It was pretty screwed up…"We just need to figure out what's gonna happen next, maybe we can stop it."

"Well how about we grab some sleep first?" Dean asked as he watched Sam yawn for the umpteenth time that night, his eyes returning to their half-open position.

"How do you know I won't wake up somewhere else?"

Dean stood up this time, shrugging his shoulders. "You're going to have to sleep sometime. Plus we'll wake up extra early and hit the books extra hard." For dramatic effect, Dean pumped his fist in the air.

Sam yawned again, looked longingly at the bed, and chose to ignore his brother's smart comment that was said in a "golly gee" tone of voice. "I guess a few hours couldn't hurt."

* * *

Thanks again guys!! 

Kris


	9. Hits Like a Girl

I apologize profusely that I haven't gotten this up sooner. No excuses, just an official 'my bad'.

Thanks guys for sticking with me and for continuing to read. I have lost quite a bit of readers, so you guys rule x2. -grin-

Still don't own them (is that really necessary to say though?) and there's a bit of swearing. The names before-hand label where everyone is. Things are about to get a bit confusing so hang with me guys.

Sam had just been returned to his rightful Dean...

_Dean stood up this time, shrugging his shoulders. "You're going to have to sleep sometime. Plus we'll wake up extra early and hit the books extra hard." For dramatic effect, Dean pumped his fist in the air. _

Sam yawned again, looked longingly at the bed, and chose to ignore his brother's smart comment that was said in a "golly gee" tone of voice. "I guess a few hours couldn't hurt."

* * *

"So this is your great plan?" Simon asked, studying his partner.

"When dealing with hunters such as these you have to be flexible. You have to be quick on your feet and not afraid to change paths."

"So in other words you underestimated them."

"Not entirely. I'll admit I thought we'd be done by now, but it seems like it's going to take a bit longer."

Simon took a sip of his beer, shaking his head. The bar they were currently sitting at was about twenty miles from where the Winchesters were currently sleeping, which was currently freaking him out.

"So your plea for immunity?"

"Was just a ruse. Why else would a demon have done what I did? I didn't expect them to become so complacent with the change, or act so calmly about it. I thought they would have destroyed themselves, but instead all they did was rally and they got close to us, I'll admit it. I just had to get on the better side of one of them, get him on our side. And after seeing how the alternate Sam Winchester reacted to his new home, that's when I knew we had struck gold."

"So where is he now?"

Marcus took a sip of his own beer, pondering the question. "The alternate Sam? I found a way to keep him busy until I'm ready."

"Oh yeah? And how's that?"

"What? Don't you trust me?"

"Call it 'uneasy with your judgment'. You're keeping an awful lot from me, and it doesn't take a genius to see that."

"All in good time."

"Bullshit. I want answers, and I want them now. I've been following pretty blindly up until now, putting my full trust in you. And you're failing."

"I'll admit you've been a loyal friend-"

"Can the crap!" Simon said, standing. "Without me, your plan is useless. Or did you forget I am the only one who can cross universes? You've got those boys thinking you can scramble their worlds, but you're just a hit man without me."

"No, I haven't forgotten," Marcus replied calmly, slowly taking another sip of beer.

"You do seem to be forgetting that we've put ourselves in a bad spot by going through with this plan. It's just plain stupid to keep things from me!"

"I have my reasons."

"I am so sick of hearing that!" Simon yelled, catching the attention of every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the bar that night. "If you're not going to include me, I'll finish this on my own!"

"Is there a problem gentleman?" the bartender asked defensively, eyeing his two customers, tensing for a fight.

"No, I was just leaving." Simon slammed a twenty down on the bar surface, and stalked from the bar.

"Come now, wait up," Marcus huffed and puffed as he jogged to catch up to his friend.

"No."

"All right, so I'll admit it, it wasn't right of me to keep things. I'm just not used to having a partner."

Simon stopped, but continued to glare at the ground, afraid that looking up would lead to the death of the other demon. "This was your stupid idea."

"I promise I'll explain everything. But first, I have an idea."

"Not another one."

"Oh yes," Marcus said, laughing. "I think this could be quite fun."

"If you think we're going to do what I think you're thinking…"

"See that's the problem my boy, you do entirely too much thinking. Besides, this couldn't hurt."

Simon sighed, shoving his hands in his coat as he considered his partner.

"Oh come on Simon, you know you want to add one more. It'll throw the boys completely off, especially this universe."

"What is your main goal by doing all of this?" Simon questioned, not budging.

"Simple. We are going to take them completely out of their element. We will defeat them in a way that they can't recover from."

.:.SN.:.

**_--Dean--_**

She opened her eyes slowly, stretching as she felt the kinks from sleeping in another crappy motel bed. Looking to the side her gaze rested on the empty bed beside hers. Letting her eyes wander she found the note her sister had left for her.

_Out for coffee._ Sweet.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. This wasn't the room she remembered, but who knew these days. The countless rooms they had stayed in were beginning to blur as it was. Same white walls, same boring uncomfortable furniture, same tasteless pictures.

There was a rustle at the door, interrupting her visual inspection. She stood up, preparing to grab the breakfast she knew was coming. She could almost taste the caffeine.

"They didn't have any of your foo-foo coffee but I got you plenty of cream and sugar," a rough male voice greeted her as the door opened.

In one swift motion she tucked and rolled, grabbing her knife as she knocked the precariously balanced food out of the arms of the intruder.

Bright green eyes lit up at the sight of her, and the man swallowed uneasily as he felt the cool tickle of her knife at his throat.

"Who are you?" she demanded. "And how the hell did you get the key to this room?"

In one swift motion that she didn't foresee coming, he was grabbing her arm and twisting her around, one arm around her waist and one hand holding her own knife to her throat.

"First thing, sweetheart, if you're going to hold someone at knifepoint, keep positive control and a close eye on their _whole_ body. Second of all, I got the key because _I_ checked into this room. The final question _I'm_ going to ask you is how the hell did _you_ get in here?"

She twisted, trying to release herself from his grip. His arm tightened his hold, while his other hand kept the knife steady.

"What did you do to my sister?"

"So you answer my question with your own question." Dean looked up, studying the empty room. "I could ask you the same. When I left here twenty minutes ago, my brother was sleeping peacefully in that bed."

"Well now that's just a lie," she spat, "I just woke up there."

"Not again, shit."

She gasped as she was suddenly released, stumbling slightly as she her weight was thrown off. Dean took the second to study her. She had long brown hair that hung below her shoulders in softly curled rivlets. Her large expressive eyes were widened in shock as she in turn studied him. She was still taller then him, which irked him to no end, but instead the height was filled by soft feminine curves.

"Sam?"

Samantha Winchester eyed the stranger in front of her. "How did you know my name?"

"Damnit."

"What the hell is going on? Who are you?"

Dean let out a small laugh dripping with bitterness, not sure how he was going to handle this one.

"You and me…we have to talk."

**_--Sam--_**

She stood in front of the stranger, hands on her hips.

"You really should release me," he warned, his voice dropping into a warning growl. That's it, he was never going to sleep again.

"Last chance, perv. Where's my little sister?"

"For the last time, I don't know!"

"Liar! When I left twenty minutes ago, she was sleeping peacefully in that bed. I come back to find you in here, and no sister."

Sam glanced around the room, noting the upturned furniture and the coffee-soaked carpet. He rotated his wrists slightly, wincing as the rope cut into them. He had been lying there, enjoying a quiet moment with his brother gone from the room, before the door had opened. He'd gotten into a quick scuffle with the shorter figure, and shock had momentarily distracted him when he realized who he was fighting with. Without warning, he was on his stomach on the floor, one arm twisted behind his back and a knife at his throat. Damnit.

Now he was tied to a chair in the center of the room, and he was pretty sure he'd been yanked into another alternate reality. Or at least he hoped he had been. The woman in front of him had dark blonde hair, so much like his brother's, tightly pulled back in a short ponytail. The same green eyes studied him from a purely female face, her jaw line was less defined and it actually gave her more of a heart-shaped face.

A thought struck him then, if he was here, that meant this Dean's sister was there. Oh that should be fun.

Taking a deep breath, he steadily met her gaze. Slowly he started recounting the past days events, leaving out as much as he could while trying to include more. Right now, it was just a pretty good theory, but he still needed to make sure this was the alternate "Dean" in front of him.

By the time he was finished, she was seated on the bed across from him, her eyes large though the rest of her expression was unreadable. "Well that's just the largest load of crap I've ever heard."

"Is it? With what you and your sister do, is it really that impossible?"

She studied him, her lips pursing slightly as she considered the story he'd just told.

"You know nothing about what my sister and I do. But I'm going to indulge you for just a bit, and pretend to go along with this. If one was to say that you've been switched with my sister and really are an alternate "Sam", how would one go about getting her back?"

"I'm not sure. The last time I got switched, I just sort of got switched back. But I'm close to figuring out how to kill the demon responsible."

She raised an eyebrow while a familiar smirk split her features. "You know this sounds like total ludicrous, right?"

Sam laughed, "Yeah, just a little bit. But I'm just curious, how close is your name to Dean?"

"Close. It's Deanna," she said calmly, cocking her head to the side and pursing her lips again. She looked too much like Dean, and it was really starting to freak him out. "Why?"

"My brother's name is Dean," Sam said, laughing softly as a sudden overwhelming feeling of panic settled in his chest. Why did he have the feeling he was never going to see Dean again?

"You have the same laugh."

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, his smile dropping.

"My sister, you have the same laugh as her. And the same eyes," she muttered, leaning down and staring her captive in the eye. "How weird is that?" Her eyebrow rose, and she slowly reached forward and lifted a lock of his hair, letting it drop. "Same color of hair too. That is so…weird…" Taking that same hand she dropped it and poked him in the chest.

"Hey!" Sam called out, quickly growing annoyed with being poked and prodded.

"Same bitchy whiny attitude. You really are Samantha. How _weird_."

"As you keep saying. But will you at least untie me?"

"No, I can't really be sure. I mean, how do I really know that you're not some psycho who has snuck into my room, and will kill me when I turn my back?" Deanna asked casually, dropping down onto the bed and propping herself up on the headboard. She crossed her arms with a self-satisfied sigh, like she had just unmasked the murderer in an old Scooby Doo flick.

"Ok, sure, I'm the perfect killer. I just laid in your sisters bed and waited for you to get me, oh after I killed her and chopped her body to bits and put it in the freezer by the wa-"

In an instant Deanna was next to him, a hand fisted in his hair, jerking his head back. Her green eyes turned hard, all traces of humor gone. "Don't you _**dare**_ talk about her like that," she growled.

"Ok, ok, I won't. Sorry," Sam breathed, trying to pull in oxygen through his constricted throat. Apparently Big Sister syndrome had the same symptoms as the Big Brother. "I really am sorry. I'm not normally like this, but I've been a little short tempered lately."

His apology seemed to satisfy her. She released his hair and took a step back.

"You have a sick sense of humor, you know that?" she asked, once again raising that eyebrow that looked too much like Dean.

"I'm just having a hard time coping. You know, being tossed around in different universes I guess would harden a marshmallow."

"You think of yourself as a marshmallow too?" Deanna laughed. Sam couldn't muster a laugh that time.

"Awck," Dena scoffed. "Fine, I'll untie your pathetic ass."

She crouched down to untie his feet first, adding a "Man am I ready for breakfast" as she moved to his wrists.

"Food? You really are my brother," Sam replied, rubbing his now free wrists. "I'm amazed you're accepting this so readily."

"The testosterone free version of your brother at least. And it sort of doesn't surprise me, pisses me off, but doesn't surprise me. We're hunting an Oden after all." She helped him stand, and added: "I am so glad I was born in this universe."

"Oh yeah, don't think you'd enjoy being a guy?"

"No, I'm a bitch. Couldn't imagine being a guy and being a bitch."

Sam chuckled. "Oh it's real torture. So you know you're up against an Oden?"

"Sam…er Samantha…had just figured it out last night before we went to bed. We really haven't gone far on him though, recon was planned for tonight. Bastard left us a calling card at his last murder. So how are we going to get you home?"

* * *

What? Don't look at me like that...I couldn't resist... 

There's not much left, but I won't be able to update for a while. Going to the land of dial-up in a few days, and next month is looking insane. So we'll see what I can do. -grin-

Everyone have a very happy holiday season, and I hope the next week or so finds you where you want to be with who you want to be with.

Okay, that totally made sense in my head.

Thanks guys, as always,  
Kris


	10. Going Solo To Finish Them Off

I thought while I was laid up in bed I would update this, now having a chance.

I appreciate everyone who has read and added this to their faves/alerts. I hope you guys continue to enjoy. Thanks to Shadow, who's annonymous review won't let me reply.

The names will indicate which universes I'm playin' with. There's the Female Dean/Our Sam world, the Female Sam/Our Dean (real) world, and don't forget about our Scared Dean/Ass Sam world. Confusing, I hope ya'll stick with me when I start combining them all...

* * *

_**--Dean--**_

"Crap this sucks. Why can't our lives ever just work in our favor for once?"

Man those eyes were dangerous. He thought the male version was bad…

"I don't know," Dean sighed, getting really tired of this game really quick. When he got his Sam back he was putting a freakin' leash on the kid. Or one of those chips that helped people recover their lost pets. Or maybe both.

"Well you said this has happened before, how did you get your brother back then?"

"It just sort of happened on its own."

"Great," Samantha said, pushing her too-long hair out of her eyes. "So this thing has an expiration date on it maybe?"

"We didn't consider that before, we were just working on a way to destroy the demon when it happened again."

"She's going to be so pissed. I hope your brother makes it out ok."

"What do you mean?" Dean said. What if that Dean was about as nice as the last Sam he had encountered? He rubbed his still-tender nose as he remembered the beating he had taken.

"The female version of you, my sister of course. She was in a pissy mood when we went to bed last night. I'm thinking that if I'm here, then that means your brother is there with her."

"Ok, Samantha? We need to finish this thing off, and fast. So you're going to tell me everything you guys found out about the Oden, and then we're going to find a way to destroy it."

Samantha dropped into one of the cheap pleather chairs, and began to recite all she knew.

.:.SN.:.

"I thought you were going to stay clean," Simon hissed, watching in disgust as Marcus downed another shot.

"Is time to shelebrate," he slurred, waving the bartender over for a refill. "And we need shomethin' to keep ourshelves busy while the boys stew." Marcus hiccupped, and then belched. " 'sides, I'm not that drunk."

"Damn you old fool, you're going to get us killed," Simon said, sending the bartender a heated glance. Shrinking slightly, the elderly man suddenly decided he had a different customer that needed a refill at the moment. Marcus' jaw fell open as he was denied, then he turned with a questioning look glazed into his bloodshot eyes.

"Come on," Marcus moaned, his face falling farther by the second. "Jush one morr?"

"No," Simon said, refusing to give in. He had let this go on far enough, and now it was time to finish things. With a plan being formulated, he turned and stalked from the bar. He was getting so tired of leaving the old man in his wake, of the old man chasing him, pleading with him to continue down the mad twisted road. It was then that the younger demon decided no more.

He was too young to die, and he was facing the very real possibility that he would be hunted for the rest of his life. It was not something he was looking forward to. If the Winchesters didn't find a way to destroy him, a few other demons would. When he had decided to go along with Marcus, he had left a few of his friends behind in the belief that he was on his way to glory. Few demons forgot the smell of a traitor.

He got as far as the alley before Marcus caught up. "I really think thiz time…"

Curious as to why his companion had suddenly fallen silent, Simon turned to find him sprawled out at his feet. The host's body shuddered, and began to hack and cough as vomit was expelled onto the damp asphalt.

Cursing under his breath in disgust, Simon left the drunken demon to his own defense and continued until he faded from sight.

.:.SN.:.

_**--Alternate Sam--**_

_Dean Winchester_

Sam watched as the LED screen on the outside of his cell phone flashed. It was the twentieth time _he_ had called. He got that his brother was worried about him, but he had also warned him what would happen if he called. He just wanted to be rid of his burden; he wanted to be a free man. He was tired of fussing over and babysitting his older brother. It just wasn't right.

Sam walked down the deserted road, stumbling slightly as his liquor caught up to him. He'd just spent the last three hours in the smallest bar he'd ever been in, drinking and hustling some much needed cash from a few of the locals. He'd made a mad dash to the parking lot when tempers had flared, and had to escape on foot when he couldn't manage to find the keys to the Impala. Now he'd have to wait until time passed, then he could go back and break into his own car.

Fucking great.

_Sam…_

His name echoed around him, causing his sluggish reflexes to throw his gait off. "Who's there? What the hell do you want?"

"Now there's no need for bitterness," voiced the figure, barely discernable in the low light of the half moon.

"Who the hell are _you?_"

"I am the Oden."

"What happened to the old man? Have to get a new host?"

"That man was a fool. Its time to finish what he started," Simon said, watching as Sam's eyes seemed to clear. What was with the alcohol abuse lately? Simon feared at this point he would never get anyone to cooperate to save his ass. "I'm not sure about you Sam, but I'm sick of playing his games. Its time we both get what we wanted."

"What are you talking about?"

"He's been playing games with you. Trying to mess with your head, only to defeat you in the end. Only I can give you what you want Sam, only I can return you to your rightful home."

"With the other Dean?"

"Yes, if that's the Dean you want." He paced for a moment before turning back towards the hunter. "The only problem is he's brought yet another alternate world into the fray."

Sam turned and walked towards the Impala, throwing his hands toward the air as he walked.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm done!" Sam returned. He paused, clenching his hands at his sides, before turning to face the demon. "You demons think you can mess with whoever you want, when you want. You mess with them so badly that when you offer a deal, which is what you've been wanting all along, you think humans will just throw themselves at you to take it up. No, screw that, screw you, _I'm done_."

"Alright, Winchester, if that's how you feel. Return to your life, return to your brother. But the next time you're wiping the snot from his nose while he cries; just remember how you had it and just how easily you threw it all away." Cursing slightly, Simon began to fade. He had to start finding ways to hide. Those stupid hunters were going to kill him now, especially when they found out that's how everything could be reversed. He wasn't so much worried about this Sam; this one had nothing to gain by killing him. It was the other four currently switched that he'd have to hide from. He'd have to find a new host…

"Wait."

Pulling himself back towards Sam, Simon took on a look of impatience. "What?"

"What's the catch?"

"What makes you think there's a catch?" Simon asked, knowing with a small glint of victory the hook was baited and the fish was hungry now.

"There's always a catch. Now what is it?"

"Well, it would involve reversing all of the screw ups that my partner inflicted."

"How do we do that?"

Knowing he could correct it with a simple flick of his wrists, or his death, he couldn't help but take this opportunity to get the hunters off his back for good. He allowed his lips to curve into a slow smile, and answered: "You have to kill the other Sams."

.:.SN.:.

_**--Sam--**_

Sam watched in disgust as a large pancake was rolled into a ball, and shoved into Deanna's mouth. Syrup dribbled down her chin, and created a large sticky smear when she wiped at it half-heartedly with a napkin.

"Wha?" she asked with her mouth still full.

"You're so gross," Sam said, laughing at her expression. Dean, always the innocent, in every universe. "Are you even a girl?"

Deanna flipped up her middle finger while flinging a half-eaten orange slice at him. They finished the rest of their meals in silence, and were soon leaning back to ease the pressure from their full stomachs.

"So, Sammy, how are things with you?" his sister asked casually, grinning her thanks as the waitress refilled her cup.

"Um, they're fine. Decided to go on vacation, you know."

"Oh, how's that going for you?" Deanna asked, eyes peering from the top of her brown spotted ceramic coffee cup.

"Not bad. I've gotten to see a couple different universes now. They suck as tourist attractions, but what are you going to do when your travel agent is a demon."

Deanna studied him for a minute, then began to laugh. "I like you; you have a sense of humor. Not so different from my Sam."

"Thanks, I try."

"No, seriously Sammy, how are things? Are you doing ok? Dean treating you alright?"

For a moment he was taken aback by her question. Her sister was missing and here she was, worried about him. "Things are awesome. We've been close the past couple of years, ever since he came and got me in California."

"He did that there, too?"

Sam nodded. "How'd it happen with you?" he asked, almost eager. It was actually interesting for him to hear all of the different variations of how their lives had turned out in all of the different universes.

Deanna took another sip of her coffee, clearly as big a fan of this story as Dean was. "Dad called me, picked up some EVP on the message he left. I went to get Samantha because I hadn't seen her in four years. I missed her to tell you the truth. But don't you dare tell her I said that."

"Your secret is safe with me," Sam said, smiling slightly. "Did she have a boyfriend?"

Deanna laughed, her eyes focusing on a crumb that had fallen from her plate as she recalled the memory. "Yeah. When I brought her back, she had this flash of brilliance, and she decided she missed the hunting, missed me, and wasn't doing that well in school. She's actually a pretty smart girl, I guess she was just having a hard time fitting in and maintining any sort of relationship. But she still had a thing for Jesse. She told him about it, and he wasn't that thrilled. He called her crazy and threw her out of the house."

"So he didn't die?"

"Um...no? Is that what happened with you?" Deanna asked, her voice dropping in sympathy. She almost wished she could have killed Jesse after witnessing her sister's reaction to being thrown out.

"Yeah, I lost Jessica. Same thing that killed Mom."

A beat of silence passed once more before Deanna cleared her throat. "So what about you and Dean?"

"We've had our rough patches, especially after Dad died. But we're getting better."

"Wait, Dad's dead?"

Sam's eyes widened, and his gaze shifted around the restaurant. "Uh, yeah?"

"I'm sorry to hear that," Deanna offered, putting her hand on his arm and squeezing softly. Apparently having a bonding moment didn't bother this Dean, she was actually encouraging it.

"Wait, he's still here?"

It was Deanna's turn to widen her gaze. "I hope so at least. I know it's been a while since we've talked to him, but last I heard he was finishing up a hunt in Oklahoma."

"Can I see your phone?" Sam asked, suddenly anxious.

"What?"

"Your phone."

"Oh, sure," Deanna said, offering it up. She took another sip of her coffee, now worriedly studying her little brother. He was furiously pressing buttons. Taking a deep breath, he pushed one more, then held the phone to his ear.

Sam waited…two rings…three…he almost couldn't believe it when it _didn't_ go to voicemail.

_"Deanna? What is it? You alright?"_

His voice cracked, "Dad?"

* * *

Thanks guys. I'll probably update again soon, gotta love the thought of spending all weekend in bed. -grin- 

Kris


	11. Out of The Frying Pan

Thank you so much to those who have reviewed. Special thanks to LoupGarouAngel who has been leaving me cookies along the way, and reminding me that people are still reading.

And if you haven't reviewed but are still hanging in there, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_**--Dean--**_

"So this is the warehouse?" Samantha asked, her stance itching with anticipation.

Dean laughed, and then nodded. "Have at," he said simply, knowing she was ready to start searching. The corner of his mouth twitched as he thought about how much she reminded him of his Sam, so eager for information and to get to the bottom of everything.

They'd decided to return to the warehouse, so Samantha could get a look and to see if she could come up with anything, and so they could get a fresh pair of eyes. After she had revealed everything she knew to her 'older brother', he had discovered she really didn't know anything more than they did. In turn Dean had told her everything, starting with the murders, leading up to the warehouse. He'd skimmed over the details of the last alternate Sam that had visited, and had informed her he was glad she hadn't tried to beat him up. She only laughed, and in return told him they had yet to encounter the Oden, that they had only started their investigations. They had planned to search this warehouse after a little more library time, believing the small metal plate left for them had been too easy.

"One thing I don't get," Samantha said, already bending down to study the scorch mark left by the supposedly-exorcised demon. "Something I've just been kind of wondering about."

"What's that?"

"Why is this one Oden going through time? Where are all of the alternate Odens?"

"That's a pretty good question," Dean answered, beginning to wonder himself. He quickly scanned the interior of the dark warehouse, a chill was slowly working its way up his neck.

"I wonder if that means there's only one Oden."

"Why do you figure?" Dean asked, keeping his eyes trained on the shadows of the warehouse. That's all they'd need is some sort of visit, supernatural or not. The chill was quickly replaced by a sense of being watched.

"Well," Sam said, straightening and moving to stand next to him. "What if there's only one Oden because of what they can do? Just imagine if you had hundreds of Odens, all messing around with realities." She began to count out steps, guestimating on where Sam had been seated when he'd read the exorcism. "It would be a huge mess," she added absent-mindedly, her eyes following Sam's flight path to the pile of debri he'd landed on.

"That would make perfect sense. Only if the other Dean and Sam hadn't come across one. When the last alternate Sam came to, he had no clue he'd been switched. All he knew is they had destroyed an Oden. He thought I was his brother."

"Huh," Samantha said, her mouth falling slightly open as she considered the new piece of information. "Is it sad that that made complete sense to me?"

"Not if its any sadder then the fact that I could come up with that."

They shared a laugh, and for a moment were lost in their own thoughts.

"Maybe he set it up that way. Maybe he visited one of your universes right after the other, creating the link he'd need to drag Sam back through," Samantha casually suggested after a minute. "You guys don't know how long you were out for."

"Dean!"

Dean turned towards the back of the warehouse, unable to believe his ears. "Sam?"

"Wait, that's Sam?" Samantha said, suddenly very uneasy about the situation. There would be two of them in the same universe. Her senses were in red alert, screaming at her, followed by the short spastic tensing of her muscles as adrenaline flooded her system. Something wasn't right, and her body was fully aware.

"Sam, what are you doing here?"

"The Oden sent me to set things right man!" Sam said, his voice sounding strained, his breaths coming out in short gasps. He sounded as if he'd run the whole way.

Dean knew something was wrong as soon as he came into view. His eyes were wild, desperate, searching. This wasn't his Sam. This was the Sam he'd had to deal with the day before, the one who'd left him on the side of the road. This was the desperate, whiney, evil Sam.

"Sam, what's going on? What are you doing here?" he asked again, fear sending small flutters through his belly and up into his chest. Things were about to get ugly, fast.

"The Oden," Sam panted, bending slightly as he fought to catch his breath. "He sent me here. He can make everything better!" The 9mm that had been tucked into the waistband of his jeans made an appearance, startling the other hunters. Sam let if fall limply at his side, showing intent that he wasn't planning on using it right off the bat. The small click as the hammer slid into place convinced Dean he had every intention on using it.

In a reaction as natural as breathing, Dean stepped in front of Samantha, effectively blocking her from the threat. "Hey Sammy, how about we talk this over?" Dean said hesitantly, wondering if he could just get him to talk.

"No Dean, no more talking. That's all we ever do. Talk, talk, talk! It never goes anywhere. I thought you were all about action. Plus," he added with more confidence, "I'm on a mission and time is money."

"No Sam, we _need_ this to go somewhere! You can't just come running in here and expect us to go along with any plan you've come up with. Please man, put the gun down. If you know anything about what we do, its that we don't do it half-assed with half the knowledge. This isn't the way we do business." Dean was panicking slightly, experiencing the same gut-clenching adrenaline rush that Samantha was, and he knew things were going to shit pretty damn quickly.

"I don't need her to go along, I just need you. Just you Dean." The 9mm came up, leveling with a steady hand. Dean was pretty sure it wasn't aimed at him…

Never before faced with this situation, Dean didn't know how to react, wasn't sure of what to say. "Why? Please Sam, you're scaring me, let's talk about this," he pleaded. He shifted a bit, fully placing himself between Samantha and Sam. With a frustrated sigh, Sam lowered the handgun.

"Dean, I don't want to hurt you. The demon, he told me that this would all be over soon. He told me he could make everything right!"

"You talked to him?" Samantha asked while peeking her head from out behind Dean's shoulder.

"Sam!" Dean hissed, forcing her back to her position of being fully hidden behind his shoulder.

"Look, Dean, we can be together, don't you see? Demon or not, I fully believe that we are supposed to be together. We would be an unstoppable force; we would be something to be feared!"

"Already got that, but thanks," Dean said, somewhat insulted by the fact that someone would think he already wasn't part of the perfect team. Or, he _was_, when supernatural beings would stop separating them.

The handgun came back up, leveling on Dean this time. "Please Dean; I really don't want to hurt you, but I will incapacitate you if that's what it takes. Mom made sure we knew where to shoot if we only needed to wound."

"You don't want to shoot me man. Come on Sam, put the gun down. We'll sit down over a few beers, and we'll figure this out. Come on man; don't let a demon do this to us."

Dean could see the sweat glistening off Sam's forehead even in the dim light. His eyes darted nervously back and forth, and his hand repositioned itself around the pistol grip.

"Come on Sam," Dean said again, trying to get through to the young man before him. He felt like Danny Roman in _The Negotiator_, trying to talk his brother down before something went horribly wrong.

"No, Dean, this has to work! The demon told me all I had to do was get rid of the other Sams!"

Samantha gasped softly from behind Dean, whispering "Oh my God." Fear gripped her, and panic over-rode all else. Self-preservation drove her then, and Samantha knew she had to get out. All her life she had faced down evils that people only dreamt about, but this was the first time she knew she wasn't going to make it out of this alive. She began to back away from Dean, her intent to get out of the warehouse and away from the danger.

"Now move," Sam ordered, jerking the pistol for dramatic effect.

"No Sam, I won't. You're being an ass, and you need to stop and think about this for a moment. Since when do you take orders? And from a demon? What does the demon have to gain from putting you and me together? Sam, think about this, something _isn't_ right." It was in that moment that Dean discovered he had been repeating himself. _Come on man…don't do this…just stop…Sam…_ He didn't really know what else to say, this alternate Sam was about as unstable as a nuke, and the blow up could be just as devastating.

"No," he said coldly, his eyes darkening and his lips twisting in a sadistic smirk.

In an instant, Dean didn't have to worry any longer, it was over. In an instant, Sam's 9mm swept to the side, and a shot rang out, echoing on the empty walls of the warehouse. It all went too fast, too fast.

The heat from the bullet kissed Dean's cheek, and he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind. Time was slowed as he turned, discovering Samantha was actually a few feet behind him and he was unable to catch her as she fell. He lunged for her anyway, and it threw his stance off as he fell with her.

"No!" Dean screamed once they'd landed, and he twisted back toward Sam.

"It'll be all over soon," the warped Sam answered calmly, as if it made everything right. "As soon as I get rid of one more Sam, we can be together. You'll see Dean, we'll be perfect," he finished as he actually faded from view.

Still moving in slow motion, Dean was unable to process what had just happened. Instinct after a life time of injuries drove him to his knees so he could clearly see the gunshot.

The bullet had caught her just to the left of her sternum, and her shirt was soaked in seconds. Bright red blood bubbled on her lips, and in a panic Dean realized it had hit a lung. She gasped, desperate to pull in air, and her chest hitched.

"Sammy, please, come on, stay with me," Dean begged, knowing this was one wound he wouldn't be able to patch.

"Dean, you…have…to save…your…brother…" she struggled to say, her vision growing dark as she fought to remain with him. The pain in her chest intensified, then suddenly numbed. It was in that moment that Samantha Winchester realized she was dying.

"I know. Come on Sammy, you're going to be ok," Dean said, his voice a whisper as he tried to make her as comfortable as possible. He pulled her up into a reclining position, which seemed to ease her breathing for a moment. Her hand snaked up, fisting in his shirt as she held onto him for dear life. "Hang on, we're going to get you to a hospital."

"Tell…Deanna…I…love…her…Tell…her…I'm…sorry…" Samantha said, gasping for breath one last time before her body relaxed, before her hand dropped, before her heart stopped. Her wide eyes remained on Dean, lifelessly watching him without a hint of accusation. With bloodied, trembling fingers, Dean closed her eyes, unable to watch the last bit of life fade further into her blank stare.

He sat for a moment, rocking back and forth as he cradled her body against his. A tear escaped, and ran unchecked down his cheek. A second one soon followed, joining with the first and falling from his jawline, creating a small wet dot on Samantha's shirt. He didn't notice, didn't care.

Tightening his hold, Dean felt the bitter rage pool in his stomach. As he reluctantly lowered Samantha Winchester to the ground, he swore her death would not go unpunished, that her killer would not see the end of his rage. He may not have known _her_, but in some crazy way she was family, she was an embodiment of his Sam. _Sam_. The thought of that psycho going after his Sam now spurred him into action.

He knew what he had to do now, and could not let the emotions threatening to suffocate him distract or slow him down. He had a demon to summon.

.:.sn.:.

_**--Sam--**_

After they'd left the diner, they had decided to return to the warehouse, and were now packing supplies. Sam was still reeling with the short conversation he'd had with his father. John Winchester had not been happy that a male had called him from his daughter's phone, even if he claimed to _be_ a Winchester. Sam decided he didn't care, it didn't matter that hell on wheels was headed his way, he had been overjoyed to hear his father's voice.

Worried, and not understanding what the hell was going on, John was apparently on his way. He'd threatened Sam within an inch of his life if anything happened to Deanna, and left them with strict instructions not to move an inch. Sam was pretty sure his father, no matter the universe, was calling every contact he ever knew. He was pretty sure none of them had ever heard of this happening. Deanna had confirmed they weren't that far from Bobby's, so he wouldn't be surprised if _he_ showed up.

Deanna gasped, rubbing her chest, breaking Sam from his thoughts.

"Deanna?" Sam said, watching with concern as he packed his bag.

"I don't know," Deanna said, straightening slightly. She grimaced and bent at the waist once more, her breaths coming out in short gasps.

"What's wrong?" Sam said, coming towards her and putting a hand on her arm.

"It's nothing," she recovered quickly, still a bit bent at the waist and still lightly rubbing at her chest.

"Deanna," Sam said, his tone taking on a dead-serious tone.

Deanna sighed. "You're such an old lady. I just have a really bad feeling, something hurts. Probably heart burn."

"Not you too," Sam muttered under his breath. He would have figured he'd at least get to go _one_ universe without having his sibling question his masculinity. Apparently not. "We need to hurry then," he added, not wanting to hesitate, even though they had promised John they would stay put.

The pair grabbed up their bags, and headed for the warehouse. Deanna left a note on the bed, insisting they let John know where they'd gone to, if Sam "wanted to continue breathing when he finds us". Sam nodded, deciding he liked breathing.

* * *

Okay, just remember anything can happen. Don't worry about Samantha, I don't like death fics either...

Thanks for reading,  
Kris


	12. And Into The Fire

We're getting down to it now! Oh boy lol.

Thanks for reading guys, means a lot if you're still here after 12 long chapters. Work has been psychotic so I'm taking so long to upload this. I'll finish it all up soon for those that are awaiting the conclusion...

Special thanks to LoupGarouAngel, Shadow, and Windyfontaine (my wonderful Alisa) for all of your support and for leaving me sweet treats.

Loves!

* * *

_**--Dean--**_

"You sure this is all I need for a summoning Bobby?" Dean said, mentally going over the checklist again and ticking off the items with blood-soaked fingers.

_"I wish you would wait until I got there. I could be there in three hours."_ Bobby's voice was gruff with concern, and Dean could hear him shuffling as he packed in the background.

"No, go ahead and finish your job. Sam might not have three hours," Dean sighed, in turn wishing he had the support of the older hunter. "We'll be okay."

There was a long, drawn out sigh, and the shuffling stopped. _ "Call me if you have any problems. Call me when you get him back."_

Dean noticed Bobby had said when, not if. It gave him a small boost and he snapped the phone closed after promising to call no matter what. Bobby knew if he didn't hear from him by this time tomorrow, then he'd failed and Bobby was to come and pick up the pieces.

Pulling away from his morbid thoughts, he rechecked the circle and made sure the lines drawn were thick and unbroken. Even the smallest crack in the paint could bring unsaid disaster.

He took a bag full of sand he'd found in the corner, and poured it into a neat pile. Knowing he would need an item to represent time, he pulled out his father's pocket watch, promising to have it cleaned after this was all over, and added to the top, burying it in the soft sand. On the very top, he added a slight amount of gunpowder. He took the same summoning spell his father had used for the yellow-eyed demon and altered it a bit, making sure he called forth the Oden. He rushed through the Latin with ease while he slit his palm open, allowing a few drops of blood to land on the pile. He lit the gunpowder, and was no longer alone in the warehouse.

Simon stepped back slightly as he was pulled sideways. One minute he had been with Sam, awaiting the arrival of the other Sam with Deanna. Now he was staring at one very pissed off Dean.

"Uh…how...did I get here?" Simon asked himself slowly, continuing to back away until he hit a large wall. Turning, he was surprised to find no wall though he was sure he'd hit something solid. Taking a chance, he glanced down and noticed he was in a large circle.

"Listen carefully demon. You need to take me to my brother, and you need to do it fast. Try anything remotely funny and Satan himself won't be able to help you," Dean finished, slowly, carefully articulating his words while he wrapped a torn strip of cloth around his hand.

"Unless I bury myself in a universe so far you won't be able to find me," Simon fired back, not daring to show his fear. He lost his hold on that fear when he realized he couldn't shimmer from the circle. That meant he was trapped…

One last attempt had the demon pouring from his host's mouth. The body fell to the ground while the black cloud swarmed above, the demon's anger clear even in the featureless form. Dean watched in satisfaction as the demon hit the edge of the circle, and was repelled backwards. The demon tried once more, ramming full speed to the edge of the circle, and was knocked back with such force it actually bounced off the other side. Dean laughed humorlessly, but for once was actually enjoying the demon's distress. It was about time the demon was the one that was played with.

The demon swarmed the host, reentering the body through its slack mouth. For a moment Dean had considered pulling the human free, but he needed to talk to this demon and regrettably, the demon needed a host. The host's eyes flashed with black anger as the body quickly jumped to its feet.

"You ain't gettin' free," Dean said, snarling slightly.

"You ain't getting what you want," the demon returned, spitting the words.

With a growl, Dean took a handful of salt and threw it at the circle. The demon shrieked as the circle flashed, and fell to his knees. "I didn't think that would actually work, huh," Dean said in wonder, falling just short of humor. He couldn't seem to find anything funny about this situation.

"Let's try this again, _demon_. Where is my brother?"

"Which one?" Simon snapped before he could control himself. Fear and pain did horrible things to the mind he decided, but he couldn't recall the words after they'd tumbled from his lips. He'd never felt this sort of fear before. Here he was, face to face with the eldest Winchester, and all he could do was taunt him.

"Wrong answer," Dean corrected, and threw another handful. Pain once again ripped threw the demon as the circle around him shimmered when the salt hit it. "Try again. I can do this all night." The older hunter turned and gestured to a pile of salt bags behind him. "If I go handful by handful, I could last at least three days."

"I'm sure your brother doesn't have that long," Simon said, trying to bring his trump card into play. Dean wouldn't kill him, and that realization brought the demon comfort. Comfort that didn't seem to be helping as the hunter threw another generous amount of salt on the ground, eliciting a painful gasp.

"How do I know he isn't already dead? You've already killed one of my Sams. I might just decide it's too late and I might kill you anyway. Besides, I brought you here, its not like I can't get back there by myself."

Simon laughed, and studied Dean for any signs of bluffing. The panic raged full force when he couldn't find one. Damn if he didn't look downright pissed, a quiet and deadly rage simmering at the top. Simon wondered if the hunter wasn't possessed by the Devil himself.

"Damn you Marcus," he cussed under his breath.

"What was that?" Dean said, his arm poised to throw another handful of salt. "Didn't quite catch that you sniveling pile of shit."

"I'll take you there," Simon said, a bit louder. At this point, he had no choice. All he could do was to try to get free once they were in the other world, kill them all, and make sure no one could ever find him ever again.

_**--Sam--**_

Deanna insisted on clearing the warehouse, stating that Sam was still her little brother and he just needed to shut up and let big sister do her job. She knew the demon might be after him, so she'd jumped in and forced him to take up the back, watching their sixes.

"I still don't know what we're going to find," Deanna complained, shivering slightly as the warm night air flowed through the warehouse. "We haven't exorcised the demon here yet."

"Maybe by us just being here the demon will show for the exorcism you and your sister were supposed to be performing tonight," Sam answered, taking position. "It seems like the time lines are all just a little off in each world."

"You still owe me a beer if we spend the night here with nothing but spiders," Deanna shot back, shaking from another chill.

"What is up with you people and this warehouse?" Sam asked, his voice echoing through the empty building.

"What do you mean?" Deanna answered, her gaze taking in the decaying walls, the windows clouded by years of grime, and the creepy holes in the roof that allowed just the smallest bits of moonlight in.

"Deanna, we're not alone anymore," Sam said, sounding a lot closer than he had moments ago.

Deanna let her gaze continue around the building, stopping on a figure resting casually in the shadows.

"What the…" Deanna trailed off as she watched Sam step from the shadows. She would have sworn it was a mirror in the corner, if the Sam across the room had been wearing the same color shirt as the one standing next to her.

"It's the other Sam," Sam warned, pulling out his own 9mm as Deanna charged her shotgun. The horror stories told by Dean came back to him, and he knew to be on guard. "He's whacked," Sam warned quietly, hoping that would put Deanna on edge as well.

"So the demon must be close by," she simply replied, keeping her eyes wide, hoping to spot anything that moved in her peripheral vision.

"What's with all of the whispering?" the newcomer asked, smiling and bringing his own 9mm into view. "You guys shouldn't have to keep secrets from me. I am, after all, a Winchester."

"I don't like that Sam," Deanna admitted, keeping her voice low still. "He seems a few scoops short of a full cone. Hence the 'whacked' I guess."

"Yeah, he's a bit off," Sam agreed, trying to come up with a plan. He was sure this was headed for a blood bath. He was about to pitch the idea of Deanna hunting the demon while he kept himself, literally, occupied, when the anti-Sam spoke again.

"Now now, let's not waste precious time. I have places to go, brothers to be with, and people to kill."

"What do you mean?" Deanna demanded, a chill working its way up her spine.

"Well, see, the Oden promised I could have the Dean I want if I killed all of the other Sams. Really quite complicated, but he's sending me to clean up the mess made. If I kill him," Sam said, waving his handgun in Sam's direction, "then I can go back to his brother."

She raised her shotgun, and placed her finger over the trigger. "You're not going anywhere near him," she growled, aiming with deadly precision.

Anti-Sam began to laugh, a chilling sound that served to prove he might have lost it, and showed no concern for the gun. His laughing ceased suddenly as he brought up his own gun, aiming it straight at Sam.

"No offense sweetheart, but this doesn't involve you," he said to Deanna, dismissing her. "It's just between us two Winchesters."

"You're not a Winchester, and don't call me sweetheart," Deanna spat, her anger overriding everything. She needed to protect the Sam standing next to her from the Sam trying to kill him. And damnit she'd do it if it cost her own life, a statement simply made which shocked herself. Internally she rolled her eyes, deciding that she was doomed to be a big sister to any Sam she came across. _Damnit._

Her attention snapped back to anti-Sam as he twitched, and the showdown was immediate as two bullets were released from their chambers. Anti-Sam pulled the trigger first, his aim a bit off and it threw Deanna to the side as she was hit, jerking her own bullet off course. It buried itself in the box right above his head, raining little slivers of wood into his hair.

"Shit!" Sam yelled as he ducked for cover, dragging Deanna with him. "Deanna?"

"I'm alright," she panted as they moved deeper into the mass of falling down and falling apart crates. "It's just a graze."

"Are you sure?" Sam demanded, pulling her into a small crack between two boxes so he could assess the damage. He was satisfied when he studied her arm, knowing she wasn't just downplaying the wound. The gash was deep, but not life threatening if he could staunch the bleeding now. He pulled of his jacket, and then removed the light tee shirt he'd been wearing over the top of a long sleeve shirt. He tore the tee shirt into strips, and quickly wrapped it around her arm, tying it tightly.

"Sam," Deanna winced as he tied the final knot, "you need to get out of here. He's going to kill you."

"He won't if I stop him here," Sam said, taking possession of Deanna's shotgun. He handed her his 9mm, not wanting to leave her without protection but knowing she had to remain hidden.

"Sammy, you can't _kill_ him," Deanna said, trying to latch on to Sam's train of thought. She glared at the 9mm for a moment, but sighed as she decided Sam could use the gun. She shoved some rock salt shells into his hand, knowing it could disable the other Sam if they had to.

"I'm going to try not to," Sam answered. "But that doesn't mean I can't _stop_ him."

"I've got your back," Deanna offered, slipping quietly in the shadows behind the boxes. She clearly knew this wasn't her fight, but regardless would be there for her brother until the end. Sam knew that was where her similarities with Dean ended. Where as he was willing to throw himself into the path of every oncoming bullet, Deanna was willing to step back and let Sam take the lead.

Deanna was fighting her own internal battle. Every instinct she had screamed at her to hunt the other Sam down and to finish him before he could complete what he'd been sent to do, but she realized she didn't know the Sam she was trying to protect. He looked like he had already formulated a plan, and was busy putting that plan into action. For once she was afraid she'd get in his way, so she resigned to simply having his back. Her own sister's eyes came back to her, so trusting and naïve. Her own sister would have gladly stuck behind her, willing to follow her wherever she went and whatever she had planned. It had been that way since Jesse had laughed in her face and had thrown her out.

"I'm off to find the Oden," Deanna said, knowing they still had a demon to find.

"Oh Sammy!" anti-Sam called. "I'm growing tired of looking for you! Why don't you just come out? I'll make this quick and painless, I promise."

Sam stayed silent, trying to reposition himself. He knew it would be a foolish mistake to come out of the same spot he'd gone running into. Quickly he retraced his steps into the boxes, the mental image of the layout firmly in his mind, ensuring he didn't get turned around and confused.

"I also promise I'll take care of your brother. Oh, and by that I do mean _my_ brother."

He clenched his jaw, waiting for his alter-self to give away his position again. He didn't disappoint.

"And don't worry, I'll leave poor little Deanna alone, if you just come out," his own voice eerily yelled out at him from the southwest corner of the warehouse. Moving carefully around the boxes, Sam moved until he was so close he could hear breathing coming from the other side of the boxes. "I don't want her."

He carefully tucked the shotgun into the small of his back, hating how it stuck out but he needed his hands free. Pulling himself up, he slid his body across the top of the boxes, getting an excellent bird's eye view of the corner below him. His alter-self was just below him, checking the location of where he'd just been.

"Here goes nothing," Sam breathed, and launched himself. Anti-Sam cushioned his fall, and the unexpected attack sent the hand gun flying. The shotgun followed soon after, just out of the reach of either of them.

"Son of a-!" anti-Sam yelled out, the surprise of the sudden weight falling on top of him sent his senses reeling.

"No guns, how about a fair fight you son of a bitch!" Sam yelled, already sending his fist crashing through the other's jaw.

Anti-Sam's head snapped to the side, releasing small spots of blood to pepper the concrete as his lip split. He brought the heel of his own hand up, catching Sam just under the nose. The pain was intense, and it felt like his nose had been driven up into his skull. The blow, leaving him temporarily stunned, was enough for anti-Sam to somehow get his outstretched hand on a two-by-four, bringing it up with every intention of permanently disabling his opponent. Sam saw it at the last minute, and threw his head to the side, throwing him off of anti-Sam as the two-by-four landed a glancing blow on his shoulder.

Once they were free of each other, they both jumped to their feet. They circled, not bothering to study each other. They already knew each other inside and out, and Sam was already on edge in case the other decided to play dirty.

Now, they watched for a faulted move, an unsteady step. Finding none, they simultaneously lunged for one another.

They scrambled for a bit, each evenly matching the other's moves. Anti-Sam flew to the side as Sam tried in vain to place him in a headlock. Grabbing a fist full of molded sawdust underneath one of the support beams, anti-Sam threw it at his opponent, catching him in the eyes. Sam coughed and tried to get the bits of soggy dust out of his eyes when he was tackled to the ground. Anti-Sam immediately reared back, landing two good blows before Sam was able to push him off, landing a few good punches of his own.

They rolled away from each other, and climbed warily to their feet. They circled in defensive positions, each watching the other, slow tears of blood tracking their way down each mirrored face.

"Why are you doing this?" Sam demanded.

"Why not? I was shown a life I could have, a life I want; now I'm going after what I want."

"And you care nothing about the world ending?"

"Oh, you got that vision too? What a load of crap that was huh?"

"Is your life really so bad?" Sam asked, not letting himself become distracted.

"You spent time with poor, pitiful Dean; you know what he's like. He's a wimp, and he cries _all_ of the time."

"Yeah, I also know that a huge reason he's like that is because of you. After only a short time of being with me I noticed a huge improvement. If you'd just have some patience with him and not treat him like crap-"

"I wouldn't have to worry about patience and how I treated him if the man had a damn back bone. Besides Sam, don't think this is personal. I'm simply going after what I want and not stopping until I get it." A viscous gleam had returned to the dark hunter's gaze, a look of pure determination and hatred replacing anything that resembled the characterization of _Sam_.

"Look, we can go about this all day. But in the end, you're still going to realize that you need to go back to your world, and I need to return to mine. Neither of us should be in this world."

"I'll return to my rightful world as soon as I kill one tiny problem," anti-Sam said, lunging for Sam once more.

* * *

I have to take off for...oh let's say about two weeks. Could be longer, might not be, I honestly have no clue.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you all are enjoying. I am my own worst critic. -wink-


	13. Bringing In The Big Guns

So I tried to update a few days ago, but this site was being silly and wouldn't take the document. We're trying again, and so far so good.

Thank you to all who are still sticking in there. We're almost done, I have about two updates left after this one. Hope you guys are still enjoying!

* * *

The jump through universes was unnerving to say the least, and it took Dean a moment to gain his bearing.

The "Son of a bitch!" quietly muttered brought him back quickly as he realized his symbol had worked. It had traveled with them, effectively trapping Simon, hence the cuss. Dean had figured the little bitch would run, so he'd asked Bobby if there was a way to alter the symbol. He'd have to let Bobby know his theory had worked, though he was pretty sure the older man had pulled it out of his ass. He wondered how the old man did that so many times, it never seemed to work out for himself or Sam.

He took a quick survey of his surroundings. For a moment it looked like they hadn't moved, they were in the same spot in the same warehouse. The only difference was the pair scuffling for domination in the background.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, and charged ahead. Both were bloody, both were bruised, and he could tell they'd been at it a while, because both looked worn out.

At his yell, both turned, fist frozen in mid-air, their eyes wide. "What?" came an exasperated cry in unison.

"Oh crap," Dean said, looking from one to the other.

"Help me subdue him Dean!"

"No, Dean, don't! Just stay where you are, I got 'em."

"Come on Dean, before he gets loose!"

"No, Dean, stay away!"

"Dean!"

"Dean!"

"Enough!" Dean shouted, grabbing one of the Sams forcefully around the chest and pulling them apart. "You two are worse than chicks, I swear."

"I…resent…that…remark…" Deanna gasped out as she unsteadily made her way to the fight taking place.

"Dean...uh...ette...I presume?" Dean asked, studying his counterpart.

"Deanna…for your…information..."

"Ah. How pretty," Dean replied, his voice dropping and holding no hint of sarcasm. The truth was seeing his own alternate self was truly freaking him out right about now.

"Bite me, your attempt at humor...sucks."

"Dean!" came the cry from one of the Sams.

"Can we get back to the fake Sam trying to take over my life?" the other Sam whined, glaring at his alter-self.

"Sam, just…holy crap…shut up," Dean warned. Both fell silent, still warily eyeing the other.

"How are we going to take care of this?" Deanna asked, bending over and putting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. She straightened after a moment, looking behind Dean. "Where's my sister? Did you bring her with you?" Her eyes lit up, were hopeful, and it tore at something inside of him.

Dean sucked in a breath. How the hell was he supposed to tell her the blood staining his hands, shirt, and jeans was not his own? He would have thought she would have found out before he'd gotten there. Or at least he'd hoped the evil bastard that had killed her would have gloated about it before now. As cruel as that sounded, even in his own mind, he dreaded having to say those fateful words. He knew, if the girls were anything like themselves, Samantha's death was going to crush Deanna.

"Dean?" Sam asked, concern heavy in the word. The other Sam simply smirked. _Son of a bitch._ Dean glared at the smirking Sam for a moment, before turning sorrowful eyes on Deanna.

"Look, Deanna, she didn't…I mean…he…" Dean inhaled again, slowly, trying to find the right words. Deanna's eyes widened, and it dawned on him that he didn't have to worry about it. Her mouth fell open, and she pointed to the alter-Sam. Sadly, Dean closed his eyes and dropped his head. It was all she needed.

"You killed my sister you sick son of a bitch!" she screamed, her expression suddenly the embodiment of rage. She lunged for the alter-Sam, her hands reaching for his throat. They fell to the ground, Deanna's fists flying as she lost all coherency. Anger burned a hole through her heart, and in that moment she didn't care if the low level beneath her died, Sam or no Sam.

"Shit!" Dean flinched as one of her fists caught him in the cheek while he was reaching down to pull her up. They all began to simultaneously yell, trying to seperate Deanna before she could kill Sam.

"Everyone stop where they are, now!"

The gruff voice was enough to instantly still the chaos of the warehouse. The newcomer looked around the warehouse in shock, taking in the sight. His daughter was being held around the waist by a man that alarmingly looked just like her, a dark look on her face as she gasped for air. His lips twisted in anger as he caught site of her wound, which had begun to gush with her exertion, soaking through the tee shirt and leaving dark trails down her arm. The man who held her was soaked through with blood, but he appeared unharmed. One man lay beneath Deanna, his face bruised and bloodied, soft gasps and wheezing told him the young man had a broken nose and possibly some cracked if not broken ribs. His twin stood a few feet away, warily studying him as he stood poised for action. It was a stance he had taught his girls from early on so he recognized it easily.

"Dad?" Deanna said, struggling in Dean's arm until he set her down.

"Deanna, get over here by me. You alright?"

"Dad?" Dean echoed, gawking at John, wanting nothing more than to rush forward and to hug the man that had been stolen from him so many months ago. God it had been so many months of pain, darkness, and had left a large gap between the only family he had left.

Once the shock of seeing a once very-dead John now standing before them began to fade, Dean found himself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. Every fiber of his being screamed out at him, told him to go forward to embrace his father. Then reality, like a bitch, came crashing down around him as he reminded himself that the John in front of him was not his father. The shotgun helped to remind him, and he found himself steadily reaching for his own side arm. Right now, the only Winchester this John cared about was the one bleeding in Dean's arms, and he'd just have to remember that.

Deanna stepped forward. "Dad, put the gun down."

Amazingly, John did, but he continued to stare them all down.

"Dad?" echoed Sam, in shock, who finally came to stand next to his brother.

"Who the hell is that?" Sam voiced from the ground.

"Shut up," Deanna cried, kicking the broken Winchester across the jaw. His head snapped to the side, and he stilled.

"Deanna!" John demanded. "What the hell is going on? Where the hell is your sister? Who the hell are these guys? Why the hell are they calling me 'Dad'? And who the hell is that guy in the circle?"

**:..:SN:..:**

"So this…Oden," John said, studying the man who was pacing in the circle. "He's responsible for all this?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, jerking on the ropes holding alter-Sam to the post. Yep, he wasn't getting free any time soon. Sam was carefully cleaning Deanna's wound with the small kit John had provided, making sure to tie the bandage back on tightly. To her credit she only hissed once, cussing under her breath as Sam tied the final knot.

"And you feel it's necessary to tie this one up?" John asked, bending down to study the man. His head was lowered, his chin almost touching his chest.

"Dad," Deanna said, stepping forward. "Something has happened."

It shocked John to find his first born struggling to continue, tears filling her eyes. He nearly became undone himself when they overflowed, falling silently, clinging to her jaw before dripping to the ground. Her shoulders shook slightly and she choked, biting back a sob.

"Deanna, what is it?" His voice softened as he shot looks at both Dean and Sam, as if holding them responsible.

She sniffed, and her eyes locked with his. "That bastard killed Sammy," she said, gesturing at the one tied to the pole.

"What?" John demanded, knowing he could not have heard her correctly.

"The Oden promised he could have whatever stupid universe he wanted if he killed the Sams that had been switched. He was coming after this one when you showed up."

John's eyes widened, and then darkened as a sneer crossed his features. He stalked over to the Oden, stopping just outside the circle. His hands fisted at his sides, and for a moment he looked like he was contemplating stepping inside the circle. "So let me get this straight, this Sam struck a deal with the Oden? Is that how this all started?"

"No," Deanna answered, "the deal was struck after things were already shot to hell."

"John," Dean said, taking a step forward. He didn't even fell right calling the man "Dad", and wasn't sure how much this John was like his, but he didn't want the man doing something as foolish as breaking the circle.

"Where is she?" he asked quietly, daring not to turn until his emotions were in check. Deanna didn't need to see the tear that was slowly tracking down his own coarse cheek. The demon watched him, but said nothing. A look of fear briefly crossed his features, before he began pacing once more.

"She's in their universe," Deanna answered, gesturing to the boys. Her eyes widened at the realization. "We have to get her back. I…she's alone there…" She choked on another sob, and then began to shake even harder as she tried to get a hold of herself.

"Whoa, whoa, easy," Dean said. "We will fix this."

"Easy to say when you still have your brother," she sneered, unable to feel remorse for the harsh reaction. She knew it was wrong though, and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." The pain was intense, and she really did suddenly resent the man in front of her. At least he still had his Sammy, she had done her job of keeping him safe...

"No harm done," he said quietly, not even being able to imaging what she was going through. He could almost feel her raw anger and hurt pouring off of her in waves, making his own stomach turn.

"So how _are_ we going to fix this?" Sam asked, toeing his alter-self. "I mean, I hate to bring everyone back down, but I don't think this world can handle _this_ many Winchesters." His vision of the world ending came back to him, and he hoped suddenly it had all been a lie. He wasn't willing to bet on it though.

"We're going to get this slimy little piece of shit to tell us how to send you guys home, and then we're going to destroy him," John answered simply.

"Salt works wonders," Dean said, walking over to his own bag and pulling out the small can. "You guys should see this." He poured a small pile into his hand, and grinned menacingly at the demon.

The demon's eyes widened and his pacing slowed until he stopped in the center of the circle. He studied the lines crudely connecting, holding him prisoner. These hunters were obviously smart, and he knew the end was coming soon for him. He had to talk his way out of this, and he had to do it fast. His mind clung to the possibilities that went with his next trump card, the dead Winchester. He was sure he could use that to his advantage.

"What…the piss?"

The room became silent as the alternate Sam began to stir. His pulled weakly at the ropes, his head rolling up as his eyes snapped open. He took a quick survey of the room, a frown crossing his face as he realized things were not going to plan. His glare fixed on the Oden, who could only glare at him in return.

"Well look at this, one big happy family reunion," he sniped, his eyes coming to rest on Deanna. "How's the downsize on your family working out for you?"

Even the Oden's eyes widened at that comment. Deanna simply stepped forward, leaned down, and put all of her weight behind a right hook. Sam's head snapped to the side, the crack ringing out as the force shattered his cheek bone.

Dean stepped forward and grabbed her arm, hauling her back. "Just ignore him."

"Sam Winchester sale," anti-Sam said around the blood now running down his upper lip, the fresh trail over running the dried one, his eyes brazenly coming back to rest on his twin. "Everything must go."

Recognizing the threat behind the words, Dean stepped up at this, dropped the handful of salt and brought his own fist around, cutting off anti-Sam's consciousness with a vicious blow to the temple. Deanna simply raised an eyebrow, and Dean offered no excuse but a simple shrug of one broad shoulder. They could take turns hitting the little creep all day, if that's what kept him silent until they could fix things.

John, who remained dangerously quiet throughout the exchange, returned to the circle. "Fix this," he said simply, darkly, to the now-trembling Oden.

"If I fix it, what's to say you won't kill me?"

"We might just kill you anyway," Deanna threatened; dropping her voice to ensure the demon knew she meant business. "Who knows, maybe it'll fix things."

"Or will just screw you all over," the demon replied, trying not to let panic seize him. He couldn't let them know that it very well might fix everything, thought it wasn't a proven fact. He wasn't really willing to test the theory.

"We can't kill him just yet," John said, deciding it was time to take control of the situation. "But he will fix this."

The Oden seemed to shrink under the eldest Winchester's gaze; one that he was sure could peel an orange.

"Let's get to fixing then," Dean said, re-opening the can of salt.

* * *

Work is not as insane now, so hopefully I will be completely finished with uploading this story by next weekend. Let's shoot for an update on Thurs...and the final on Saturday. 

Yay.

Glad you guys are stickin' with me once again. Have a good week!

Kris


	14. Don't Let Go

Okay...so my plan didn't really work out as I had wanted it to. But instead of making excuses (friendneededhelp) lol I'll just go ahead and put up the update...

Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, means a lot. I try to say "reviews don't matter as long as people read and enjoy" but I'm starting to realize that I like reviews haha...mmmm...cookies...

One more to go after this, and I'll try to get it up in the next few days, just to finish this baby off.

* * *

"The first thing you're going to do is you're going to bring my Samantha into this world," John said, crossing flannel-enveloped arms over his chest.

"I never understood the human need to say goodbye to a corpse," the Oden answered, ticking his head to the side. He was genuinely curious, but John wasn't in the sharing mood. "It's not like they can say anything back."

"Just bring her now!" he thundered, dropping his arms and taking a step forward. Simon stumbled back in answer, a quiet "fine" mumbled from his lips.

A light flared from the corner of the warehouse, similar to a camera flash, and it drew all of the eyes to the body lying in the crimson puddle on the floor. Deanna let out a strangled gasp and walked hesitantly towards her sister. She made it about half way before she fell to her knees, the sobs wracking her body as she fought to stand again.

John watched his daughter in silence, unable to move even as she fell. Damning himself for his selfish act, he refused to look at the body of his youngest as he slowly made his way to his eldest.

"No, Dad, I can save her!" Deanna cried as he began to pull her away, forcing her back towards the group.

"Deanna, listen to me, we can take care of Sammy after we take care of the demon and send everyone home." His voice broke at "Sammy", and he suddenly realized his daughter's hated nickname would never again be answered with the familiar retort of "It's Sam or Samantha, dear God anything but Sammy."

"We can't just leave her there," Deanna argued, her struggles growing weaker as she seemed to cave in, trudging alongside her father.

"Deanna! We will take care of business now, and then we will take care of Sammy. Now that's an order."

Deanna straightened at her father's harsh tone, wiped the tears from her eyes and replied with a stronger "Yes sir."

Sam shot a look Dean's way, to which Dean simply glared back. It might be true that in each universe Dean would be obedient to their father, but now was not the time to fall apart. Right now they needed John to step up and take the lead.

Then, Deanna did something that shocked them all. She came to a stop in front of Dean, cold green eyes locking with his and daring him to look away. "You didn't protect her. I kept _him_ alive," she spat, her finger pointed at Sam, "why couldn't you have protected my Sam? Was it really that hard to do? Or did you figure it wouldn't matter considering she wasn't yours to protect?"

Dean's eyes widened, his jaw falling slightly open as panic and shame froze him. Sam was about to step in on his brother's behalf, he knew what that question had just done to his brother's psyche and it angered him. Whether she meant to or not, Deanna had just shattered the image Sam had been trying to rebuild so carefully the past year. He had realized not long after he'd rejoined Dean that his brother still needed to be the protector, still needed to rely on his job of "watch out for Sammy", and had allowed his brother to step back into that role occasionally. Four years apart hadn't dampened that need in Dean, but Sam had done irreparable damage by walking out when he was still just a defiant kid.

He was twenty-three, and was an equal part of their team, but every once in a while he would allow his brother to step in front, hoping to add a stitch to the gash. Deanna had just taken a sledge hammer to a glass house; Sam could see it in his brother's face.

Just as Sam was about to step in to rip Deanna apart, a wet cough sounded from the corner of the room.

"Sammy!" Deanna cried as she turned from her rant and ran back towards the corner of the warehouse. Samantha's head had turned to the side as she continued to cough, sending droplets of blood to pepper the concrete floor.

Deanna's hands ghosted over her sister's now-rising and falling chest, tearing at her shirt, looking for the wound that had stolen the breath from the youngest Winchester. The gunshot wound was gone, and was instead replaced by an ugly red scar.

"Dea-nna?" Samantha coughed out, her hand coming to rest lightly on her chest as she fought for breath. "Wha…what happened?"

"You're going to be okay Sammy," Deanna insisted, before turning back to her father. "Dad, what happened?"

"She didn't die in her universe," the Oden answered simply for them all.

"So, because she didn't die in her universe, she couldn't be dead here?" Sam asked, catching on.

"Yeah, physics is a bitch like that. Don't quite understand how it works myself, I just know when I'm gravely wounded in one universe, I can simply switch to another one and bam, I'm all better," the Oden informed them.

"Well that just doesn't make sense," Dean said, his voice still low. "Why would you want this Sam to kill everyone if they could just be brought back?"

The Oden shrugged, his hands slapping his sides. "No one was supposed to be returned to their rightful place," he whined. "I thought once every Sam was killed, I could just leave and no one would know otherwise. If everything would have just gone to plan, every dead Sam would have been salted and burned, and it would have been kind of hard to bring a life back to a body that's been destroyed. That's what you all do after all, is salt and burn the dead, I thought I was in the clear." Then, as if in after thought, he added "You guys call us demons a bunch of sickos, salting and burning, ever hear of cremation?"

"Too bad you're just not smart enough to plan a successful get away," John said, stepping up to the circle once again. It was time to put the bastard to rest and to send all of the boys back home. Then he could deal with the damage done to his girls.

If eyes weren't on the corner, where a crying Deanna was hugging a bloody, crying Samantha to her chest, they were on the eyes of the stand-off between John and the demon. No one noticed the Sam tied to the post was back; currently sawing at the ropes with a knife he had tucked in his sleeve. He kept his head low to his chest; his eyes closed, and didn't allow for much movement to show he was awake. He felt the ropes give a bit, and continued to saw until they fell away completely with a soft snap. He stayed in position, inhaling slowly when no movement was made towards him. The older man was still yelling at the demon, and some chick over in the corner was still crying.

He made up his mind, and went for it. Before anyone could react, he was scrambling to his feet towards the circle. With a tuck and a roll, he sent his protesting body across the circle, wiping part of it away. A shot rang out immediately afterwards, jerking Sam's body forward and sending him to the ground. Dean and Sam turned from the escaped and shot alter-Sam to Deanna, who was holding a shotgun in her hand.

She shrugged. "What, he'll come back to life after this is fixed."

"Doesn't mean it's a pleasant experience," Samantha growled from her huddled position next to her sister.

Then, all at once, everyone including the demon realized the consequences. Sam had broken the circle, the demon was free. "No!" John screamed, rushing forward. With a scream of his own, the demon's host fell to his knees, a long black cloud pouring from his mouth. Everyone was prepared for the demon to escape through the cracks in the rotted out windows. No one was prepared for how the demon rushed towards a new human host, slamming it back with such force the body hit the ground.

The demon's former host stayed down, groaning as he attempted to sit up.

Everyone ignored the man, their attention focused on the new host as he rose to his feet. He turned, his eyes gleaming black, glistening in the low light as he laughed from deep within his chest.

Dean stumbled back, shooting a quick look at Sam. _At least they weren't yellow._ It was a horrible thought, but when they had stared down a possessed John before, black was preferable to yellow any day.

"Much better," the demon said, stretching his arms over his head. "Now what to do with you all?"

"You could always throw us all up against the wall and blah blah blah," Deanna retorted from the corner, helping Samantha to her feet. "It's all the same with you demons."

The demon laughed again. "There's that spirit. And here I was worried I'd broken you all when Sam killed just one of you." His new-found confidence was amazing; he knew they couldn't do anything as long as he possessed their father. The girls wouldn't want to kill their father, and he **knew** the boys wouldn't kill him. After all if ol' yellow eyes could come out alive, then they wouldn't risk killing the oldest just to get rid of him. He had until they began chanting Latin to save himself. "No, I'm not going to waste such time. But we will get rid of these." With a flick of his eyes he relieved them all of their weapons, grinning in satisfaction as he found them all unarmed.

"I only need one weapon to kill you," Deanna said coldly, her hand reaching behind her back. She withdrew a small pistol, its intricate carvings catching in the light.

"What are you doing with that?" Sam gasped, not sure why the possession of the colt in this world surprised him.

"We have two bullets left," she replied evenly. "We haven't used them all yet."

"Deanna, no," Samantha choked, gaping at her sister.

"What's that little gun going to do?" the renewed demon sneered. He didn't move, obviously not recognizing the importance of the gun. "You shoot me, you just piss me off and kill Daddy."

"There's no other way. We shoot him with the normal weapons, he'll just escape and Dad will be dead. This way at least Dad won't die in vain."

"No!" Samantha screamed.

Unable to believe his eyes, Dean stepped forward. "Deanna, you can't…I can't believe you're even…"

"Shut up!" she screamed, her voice clearly conveying her rage. "You don't get to talk anymore. You let her die."

"You don't even know _how_ she died!" Sam said, his own anger rising. "So you might want to be careful about how you speak to my brother."

Dean's eyes widened, and he smirked. "Sammy's got a point."

"I was my fault," Samantha said quietly, remember how she'd backed away from the protection of Dean's body and had allowed herself to be shot.

"Yeah, how can a man protect you when you don't listen to him?" the demon added. "Yaddah yaddah yaddah. Listen up boys and girls, if you're going to go ahead and shoot me, do it now and get it over with. I have things to do and places to visit." The demon's eyes twinkled in humor, as if he was just daring Deanna to shoot him.

"You're not going anywhere," Deanna said simply as she pulled the trigger, calling his bluff. The bullet pierced the demon's forehead, fluttering John's long hair as it hit dead center. There was a short burst of electricity from the bullet, momentarily lighting up the demon's features, revealing them frozen in shock.

"Eat that bitch," Deanna said, lowering the colt.

"You just shot him!" Sam said, his own shock hampering his ability to process, to reason. "You just killed your father!"

"It had to be done," Samantha said, her breath still coming out in a pant.

"Are you all nuts?" Dean said, unable to believe they were taking this so calmly when his own eyes were tearing. His eyes went to the demon, to his father's body, as one last shock was sent from the bullet. The black eyes that had gleamed so dangerously faded until the dark brown eyes of his own father remained. A shock swept outward from the body, similar to the aftershock of an explosion.

"Don't try to understand it," Deanna called, her voice suddenly sounding far away. "I did what had to be done."

Dean's eyes caught with Sam's just as the world behind him blurred. The colors ran together in a nauseating swirl, his equilibrium shot to hell as he felt himself falling. He reached forward, trying to grab and hold on to his brother, when everything faded to black.

Samantha watched as the ripple swept through the warehouse, swallowing everyone foreign to their world in its wake. "Think they've been returned?" she asked once the dust settled and they were alone.

Deanna shook her head. "Not sure, but they're no longer here and for that we should all be grateful. Come on, let's take care of Dad." They moved towards the body on the floor, remorse slowing their steps.

"We had to do it didn't we?" Sam asked in a low voice, grimacing as the act of reaching for her father sent a stab of pain through her chest.

"There was no other way Sammy. We couldn't take the chance the demon would escape; none of the boys would have made it home. Dad would have wanted us to do it."

Samantha nodded. "I guess. It just seems like maybe we could have done things differently."

Deanna stared at the blood staining her little sister's clothes. "There was no other way." She would shoot her father again if it meant Sam was alive.


	15. The Aftermath

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed, read, alerted, and favorited. Special thanks to Windyfontaine, LoupGarouAngel, and Shadow who reviewed faithfully and reminded me that people were still reading.

Well, we've reached the end. I hope you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have. -grin-

* * *

The first thing he noticed was somehow he'd ended up on the floor of the warehouse. Dust seemed to fill every crevice in his nose and mouth, causing him to roll over as he sneezed and coughed. Carefully he brought himself to a sitting position, satisfied the world wasn't going to freak out on him again and stayed still. He looked around, noting with dismay that he was alone. Where had his new Dean gone? Maybe he himself was dead. Maybe this is what death looked like.

The last thing he'd remembered was a gunshot echoing through his ears, a blinding pain tearing through his back, knocking him to the ground. Deanna, that bitch, had shot him! Grimacing, he reached around and probed the sore area, relieved when he didn't find a gaping hole. He brought his hand back around and gingerly poked at his cheek, equally relieved to find it still intact. Dried trails of blood still crusted his face, but the injuries he'd sustained in the alternate world hadn't seemed to follow him.

Either that or he _was_ dead, and he was now in some kind of hell.

"Sam?" The unsure voice that had grated on his nerves for as long as he could remember came back to haunt him. "Sam!"

Okay, maybe it wasn't just _haunting_ him, and maybe he _wasn't_ dead. Dean came running from the bay door of the warehouse, his boots sounding heavy as they approached.

"You okay?" his brother said, slightly out of breath as he knelt down beside him.

"I'm fine!" Sam said, the phantom pain from the bullet still throbbing. Why did he have to come back to life? Why couldn't he have just stayed dead? He had finally found peace, and would have even given up his claim on the Dean he wanted for some simple peace. "Get the fuck away from me."

Dean stiffened his spine when Sam half expected him to start crying. "You know what Sam?" he said, his tone resentful.

"What?" Sam mocked. He offered up his hand, and instead of taking it to help him to his feet, Dean backed away.

"Let's get one thing clear. You will no longer speak down to me, got it?"

Sam's eyes widened as he listened, suddenly not sure if he'd actually ended up in the right place. Where the hell had the sniveling, whining, crying Dean gone? "Dean, don't even-"

"No!" Dean retaliated, his hands balling into fists. "For once in your life you're going to shut up and listen to what I have to say. You...you may not like it, but I have been shown that I am not your punching bag, something you can hit whenever you feel like it! I re-I refuse to be your bitch!" Panic swelled slightly in his stomach, but anger overrode it. He was _done_, and on a roll.

Sam wasn't sure where this new front had come from, but he wasn't going to listen to the bull. He grimaced as he stood up, glad he didn't have to fully straighten to look at his shorter brother in the eye. His back was screaming at him, and all he needed now was silence and a bottle of Jack. And maybe a perky blonde who wouldn't do a whole lot of talking but knew the buttons to push on a man.

Not this sudden bravado put on by his weaker older brother.

"Oh is that the way it's going to be?" Sam taunted, his face crumpling in an expression of mock sorrow. "You finally got some balls?"

"You know what Sam? I am so sick of you doing that to me, trying to tear me down and to continue to kick me while I'm below you! It's not going to happen anymore."

"You say that now," Sam said, shaking his head. "But we'll be back to the way we were in an hour. Now give me my fucking keys and I'll forgive your little outburst."

"I think I'll drive this time," Dean said thoughtfully, his chin rising as he twirled the keys deftly between his fingers.

"The hell you will!" Sam said, a determined stride carrying him across the small space until he was face to face with Dean.

"Back off Sam," Dean warned, his eyes darkening as he took stance.

"Oh and what are you going to do? Cry and flick your tears at me? Pout until-" The sentence was cut off as Dean reared back and brought his fist up, hitting in the exact spot his alternate version had. Sam cried out as he fell to the ground, once again feeling his cheekbone shatter. The years of pain and anger, shame at being beat down must have finally snapped.

"When you've picked yourself up, I'll see you at the hotel. Wipe your feet before you come in and don't get blood all over," Dean added, turning with satisfaction after catching the bewildered look on Sam's face. Whistling AC/DC, Dean made his way to _his_ Impala, a lightness in his step he hadn't felt since he'd stood by that lake and had been encouraged by his alternate brother. He felt the rumble of the car beneath him, heard the rocks grind beneath the tires as he stomped on the gas pedal. Tomorrow was looking brighter already.

.:.SN.:.

Dean woke slowly, barely slitting one eye open before slamming it shut against the bright light. He took a deep breath and tried again, this time slowly until he was ready for the light. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized the sun had rose and was bearing down on him from the huge gaping hole of the roof. He turned his head to the side, and when he didn't spot his brother he very carefully he turned it the other way. "There you are Sammy."

Sam had landed in the same spot as last time, his body stretched out over a pile of support beams. Grimacing against the massive head ache pounding its way through his head, Dean sat up carefully. He coughed a few times, trying to expel the dust from his lungs and his throat. "Sam," he called, his voice hoarse.

"Mmmm?" Sam answered, his hand coming up to waive his brother off. "Few more minutes," he mumbled.

"Come on princess, time to get up." Dean stood, decided his head didn't like the movement, and made his way unsteadily over to the pile. "Where are you hurt?"

"I think an easier question would be, where am I _not_ hurt." Landing on the pile of beams hadn't been any more fun the second time around, and his body was protesting. He opened his eyes, and found Dean staring down at him, not in much better shape.

"Can you walk?"

Sam wanted to protest, wanted to say no, but instead he nodded, "Yeah."

"Come on," Dean grunted as he took hold of one of Sam's hands and pulled him up. Sam gasped as he was pulled upright, pain tearing its way through his back and down his limbs.

"You good?" Dean said, not sure he could catch his brother if he went tumbling backwards. He reached forward and took Sam's arm anyway, and draped it around his shoulders. His head was killing him, but by the looks of it and by the way Sam was clutching at his ribs, Dean had come out relatively unharmed.

"Yeah, a few days in the hot tub and maybe a massage would really help," Sam suggested, wheezing as he and Dean made their way outside. He wasn't sure, but he might have cracked a few ribs. His right kidney was also killing him, he at least was sure of the fact that he had hit a beam dead on.

"Hang on a minute," Dean said, stopping them short. "You sure you're my Sam?"

Sam smiled, ducking his head. "Yeah. I just think, maybe after seeing how the other Sams were, that it was time for me to take a bit of a break, lighten up a little."

"Okay, I definitely have the wrong Sam," Dean said, about ready to drop the punk on his ass.

"No, I just think maybe you had a point, maybe we should go see the Grand Canyon, and hell we could swing by the Statue of Liberty on the way."

Dean nodded in approval, and once again steered his brother towards the car. "Maybe Amsterdam too?"

"Don't push your luck," Sam said, grinning. "We still have a demon to hunt and kill."

"Speaking of the yellow-eyed sob, it's too bad we didn't steal the colt before we came back."

The mood was immediately darkened as they thought about what their alternate world had chosen to do with the colt. Dean shuddered and felt slightly ill at the cold, dead look in her eyes as she pulled the trigger, killing her own father.

Dean helped Sam settle into the passenger side of the Impala, adding an "Amsterdam was worth a shot" as he closed the door. Smiling himself, he moved around and dropped into the driver's seat. The bright morning sun had warmed the interior of the car; the smell of old leather heavily permitted the air, putting the boys at ease as they rode back in silence.

.:.SN.:.

Dean watched in amazement as Sam gestured with his pool stick at the corner pocket.

"There's no way," he taunted, leaning on his own stick as Sam lined up his shot. The cue ball hit the eight ball, glancing off of the side pocket, and rolling until it fell down into corner pocket.

Dean's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped slightly. "Okay Sammy, you win this game, next loser buys another round?" he suggested as he gestured to their near empty beer mugs.

"That's what you said about the last game," Sam said, shaking his head. "You better pay up this time you cheap ass."

"Oh man," Dean said, shaking his head as he reached for his wallet and walked off towards the bar.

Sam smiled as his brother weaved his way through the bodies, stopping only to watch as a tall busty redhead passed him by. Sam smiled as Dean frowned at him, and simply waived him back up towards the bar. Dean wasn't going to get out of buying that round. They were pretty evenly matched when it came to pool, they both had been vying for the eight ball, and Sam just had the luck of having an open shot. Besides, he had bought the last round, it was Dean's turn.

Sam reflected on the past couple of days. It had been nice and slow, they had slept in and spent most of the morning either watching TV or going for runs. Sam was still a bit stiff, but he often found exercise would help give him back his mobility. He'd been surprised when Dean had opted to join him, and they usually ran a couple miles before returning to the motel for another nap.

Their night life had consisted of going to the bars, goofing off and hustling a few games here and there. They were still good on money, so they weren't hard core broke but it was nice to pocket a few twenties here and there. Tonight, they were here for pure fun. Not once had Dean complained about taking a couple days off, nor did he seem restless. If anything his attitude had improved and he smiled a lot more. It seemed like they were both getting back on track.

A few times Sam had wanted to talk to Dean about what Deanna had said to him, but as normal he would be shot down before the full "Dean we need to talk" could leave his lips. Finally, the previous night, Dean had broken down and they'd finally had a talk. He'd found Dean resting on the hood of the Impala, his back propped up by the windshield and his head pillowed by his arm. In the other hand he held a beer bottle, taking the occasional sips as he stared at the stars.

Dean would probably always feel that guilt, though when they had left Samantha had been alive and well. They both knew the truth; she had backed away from him giving the Sam-on-a-rampage a clear shot of her. Sam was just glad his brother hadn't been shot in the altercation. He knew if given the chance, Dean would have thrown himself in the path of the oncoming bullet.

She hadn't developed the sixth sense when it came to working with Dean, so she hadn't known any better. She hadn't known that Dean would have diffused the situation, that he would have found a way to get them both safely out. Dean didn't allow that to put any less guilt on his shoulders and he would probably always feel the life draining out of her as he held her. As carefully as he could, Sam let his brother know it was okay to feel bad that Samantha had been killed, but in no way was he to feel responsible.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean had simply replied, holding his bottle up. Sam raised his and tapped it to Dean's offered one, and then they had both taken a sip. "You just have to let me work through this on my own. We're all okay though, we're gonna be okay." They had left it at that. Sam had watched as Dean dealt with the events of the past few days in his own way, but the thing that put Sam at ease was he seemed to be dealing, and coming back out. Once he requested to do it on his own, Sam had backed off, while keeping a steady eye on him at the same time.

Sam snapped back to the crowded bar but his smile faded as Dean rushed back towards him, his hands empty. "Don't tell me you're weaseling out on me," Sam groaned.

"No, dude, we got a bigger problem." He nodded his head, and they both made their way from the tables to a quieter corner.

"What's up?" Sam asked as soon as they were in the clear.

"That other demon is sitting at the bar."

"What? What other demon?"

"That old guy, the one that was first with the Oden at the warehouse. He's sitting up at the bar."

"Did he see you?" Sam asked, his sore muscles tensing for the first time in days.

"I don't think so, he looks pretty toasted."

"Toasted?" Sam asked, unable to picture the demon that had been trying to kill them as _toasted_.

"Yeah. I'd say he's on his tenth Scotch, and is barely sitting up on his barstool."

"What do we do?"

Dean thought for a moment, looking back to the bar where the large white haired demon sat. "We have to exorcise him. We can't forget he tried to kill us. I say we send him to hell."

"Sounds like a plan, but we can't exactly do it in a crowded bar," Sam argued.

"Yeah, and he doesn't look like he's going to leave any time soon. I say we wait him out, and then ambush him when he leaves. You got all the supplies to do an exorcism?"

Sam nodded. "Everything I should need is in the car. Bar closes in half an hour, so we shouldn't have to wait him out that long."

"Go get your little demon busting kit ready then, I'll keep an eye on the target." Sam noticed his brother's gaze wasn't quite on the demon, but was following a certain redhead as she moved around behind the bar.

"Okay Charlie Brown, you go talk to the Little Redheaded Girl and I'll meet you back here in a few." Sam laughed as Dean sent a good-natured jab at his shoulder, pushing him along. "I'm goin' I'm goin'."

Somehow, Sam just didn't feel right attacking this demon. Sure the thing had tried to kill them, and was pretty sure he had talked the Oden into going after them. And they couldn't forget about all of the innocent people, who had been killed, just to draw them to that place. Still, in his drunken and pathetic state, the demon just didn't seem like that much of a threat. He almost felt like the big bad bully picking on the little kid. It just wasn't going to be that much of a fight.

He had all of the necessary materials laid out before him and was just running through a double check when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He stood upright, having not even heard the person approach. Hissing slightly when his head hit the top of the open trunk, he turned and came face to face with Dean.

"I've been calling your name man. You should be paying attention."

"Well I wouldn't have to worry about it if someone was doing his job by keeping an eye on the demon."

"He, uh, sort of disappeared on me."

"What?" Sam asked. Great. "What happened?"

"Well, Sally came over and asked-"

"Sally?"

"Yeah," Dean's face perked up, "my little red-haired girl. Anyway, she came over to see if I needed anything to drink. Well she has really big," at that point Dean stopped and held his hands in front of his chest, jiggling his eyebrows.

Sam exhaled, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Dean, the demon?"

Dean cleared his throat, and looked back towards the bar. "Yeah, by the time Sarah-"

"Sally."

"-whatever, by the time the waitress moved he was gone."

"Well, how hard can it be to find a drunk demon?"

"A little easier than you think my dear boy," Marcus said as he stepped from the shadows, throwing both boys away from each other immediately. The momentum of his hand threw his own unsteady gait off, and the boys didn't land where he'd intended them to. Instead of landing against the Honda in the corner of the parking lot, Sam was thrown over it and landed on the ground, the breath being knocked from his body. Dean landed on a group of trash cans tucked in the corner instead of up against the wall. "Well that juss dinn't work out," the demon muttered as he tipped, leaning against the brick wall of the bar for support.

"You good Sam?" Dean asked as he finally freed himself from the rubber garbage cans.

"Yeah," Sam grunted as he rose to his feet. So much for all of the healing and resting he'd done, he had a whole new group of bruises to add to his list.

"Well that was just plain mean," Dean said as Sam came to stand behind him, and they turned back to the demon.

"I'ma demon," the man slurred, holding up his hands in an over-exaggerated shrug and looking about as threatening as a kid with a baseball bat. "Iss what we do."

"What kind of demon are you exactly?"

"Dean!" Sam hissed. Now was not the time to be playing twenty questions with the killer, they had to get rid of him before he caused them any more trouble. Mentally Sam was already preparing for the exorcism.

"Come on Sam, its not every day we get to do this. So come on, what kind of baddie are you?"

The old man smiled, pride lighting up his eyes. "There's no real name fer me, never was one for the formalities." He tried to stand up, but ended up leaning back up against the bar. Throwing his hands up in a defeated gesture, he continued on: "I juss go around an' cause death and destructtion. You wan' someone dead? I know some of the best ways. I guess you could sort of say I'm a demonic hired gun. Or at least I was. You know, there wass a point when not even other demons would mess with me." The man began to giggle, and fell backwards when the building he was leaning so heavily on suddenly lurched to the side. The small bottle he'd been clutching fell beside him with a soft clank. He peered up at the boys through slit, bloodshot eyes.

"Finish me," he begged, black clouding and swirling in his eyes. "Don' juss send me back ta hell, kill me." For dramatic effect, he hiccupped.

The boys were slightly taken back by this change of events. Here was this demon, supposedly a once greatly feared demon, begging for death. They backed away and Dean sent a questioning look at his brother. Sam shook his head.

"If we could kill demons routinely, with just a few simple words," he whispered, "we'd be doing that instead of just sending them back to hell."

Dean nodded, curling his lips. "You got a point there. So what do we do?"

"Send him back to hell I guess. Just because he'd tipping around drunk, begging for death, doesn't excuse the fact that he killed almost a hundred people just to lure us here. We do what we can until we find a way to actually kill them with out sending them back to hell."

"A violent, unsympathetic plan Sammy, I like it."

Sam sent a glare his brother's way, already digging for his father's journal. He pulled it out, and they approached the demon. He didn't move, he simply laid and watched them.

"Back to hell I take it?"

"It'll be like one big happy high school reunion," Dean said, smirking. "You can go back and tell them all how successful you were."

The demon scoffed, pulling himself up so he was seated. "Yeah, where they all want to kill me for ditching out on them. Don't suppose you guys wouldn't follow me if I tried to escape?"

Dean's smirk dropped, "There really is no escape from us. Sammy-boy here," he clapped his brother on the shoulder, "he's a bit Obsessive Compulsive and we just can't leave a job unfinished."

Sam nodded, "It's true."

The demon's eyes widened, and again he hiccupped. "Ah, I see. Well then, we best get it over with. I s'pose they'll kill me when they see me anyway."

Unable to contain a small outburst of laughter, Dean tried to mingle it with a cough.

Sam began, the Latin easily flowing from his lips as he read over the words he'd seen a thousand times. His elocution, flawless from years of studying Latin with Pastor Jim, was easy going as he said the words almost from memory. Dean's lips moved silently as he lip synced his brother.

Marcus flopped around, his hands circling his throat as pain overrode everything else. The boy kept reading, and it felt like something was clawing its way down his throat to forcefully remove him from his host. Why was it taking so damn long?

Dean winced, almost in sympathy, but mainly in disgust as the demon was expelled from the older man. When the black cloud had fully dispersed from the sky, the street became quiet once more until a car alarm echoed in the distance.

"Everythin' alright out here?"

The boys turned from the panting host to find a tall, muscular bouncer from the bar. He leaned a bit, getting a good view of the man on the ground.

"Our friend here had a bit too much to drink, so we were just getting ready to take him home," Dean supplied. The car alarm started back up, and someone yelled.

Sam nodded, reinforcing Dean's story. He was relieved when the bouncer turned, giving them a cold look over his shoulder. "Just make sure y'all clean up any puke."

"Sir yes sir," Dean mocked. Sam shot him another glare, and Dean shrugged.

"Wass goin' on?" the older man mumbled, his hand weakly waiving in front of his face.

"Come on buddy," Dean grunted as he grabbed the man's arm and pulled him up. He gestured to Sam for help. Slightly crinkling his nose against the smell of the drunken older man, Sam took up the other arm in support.

"Who're you guys? Why am I drunk? Where we goin'?" His words were slurred as he tripped over himself, leaning heavily on the shoulders of both Winchesters.

Dean grimaced as the strong smell of body odor wafted around his head, and he turned to see the sweatshirt of the arm he was supporting completely soaked at the man's pit.

"Do you guys smell that?" the man wondered, sniffing in the air.

"Kind of hard not to," Sam bit out as they continued, making Dean laugh. At least he wasn't the only one suffering.

"Marcus?" Dean tried, stopping short. Sam was thrown off balance as their momentum was interrupted, catching himself and the drunk before they could both fall to the wet asphalt.

"Yeah?" the man smiled weakly.

"Do you know where you live?" The question was met first by an intense look of confusion, then a shake of his head.

"Come on man, I don't even know yer name and ya want to take me home?"

Dean's face flamed and it was Sam's turn to laugh.

"Old man's got a sense of humor, huh?" Dean snapped, his face heating even more as he watched Sam fight to catch his breath. The man between them seemed so out of it, so confused; all he could do was offer a lopsided grin to Sam's fit of laughter.

With his free hand, Sam blotted at his eyes, and continued to gasp between bouts of laughter.

"I say we drop him off at the nearest homeless shelter and let him sober up." Sam laughed again at Dean's suggestion, but stopped when he found that his brother was serious.

"We don't know how long he was possessed Dean, we don't know if he has a home to return to."

"Hello, homeless shelter," Dean tried again.

"How about the nearest hospital?" Sam tried. He was sure someone would help the older man there, and maybe he could get a shower while they were at it.

"The nearest hospital is five miles Sammy. I'm not carrying the man, and I am _not_ putting him in the car."

"We have no choice Dean, we can't just leave him out here."

"Aw come on," Dean whined. "Someone else can help him, our good deed was done when we exorcised him."

"We can't, Dean."

"Fine. But if he stinks up the car, you're cleanin' it."

They downloaded the man into the back seat, letting him stretch out on his side. Despite the chilly night air, they rolled down all of the windows.

"I just don't understand why we need to see everything through to the end," Dean argued as they pulled out of the parking lot.

"I have OCD, remember?" Sam goaded, smirking at Dean's glare.

"Uh, guys?" came the small voice from the back seat.

"Don't you throw my words back at me," Dean argued. "Get your own."

"Uh, guys?" he tried again.

"Why get my own? You make it far too easy," Sam shot back.

"Guys!"

"What!" they said simultaneously.

The sounds of the man being sick in the back shoved the last nail in the coffin for Sam. A look of fury crossed over Dean's face and his hands turned white as he hung onto the steering wheel with a death grip. "Sam," he finally growled out through clenched teeth.

"How is this my fault?" Sam asked, his eyes wide in innocence.

"Let's not leave the poor man on the ground, let's get him to a hospital," Dean mimicked.

"I didn't sound like that."

The splash of regurgitated alcohol on leather could be heard as the man retched again, and the smell intensified. Dean was about to pull over to murder both passengers when a small blue sign came into view. The small white 'H' in the center saved them all, and soon they were pulling into an emergency room.

A small nurse was outside, leaning against one of the support beams, a red cherry lighting up her face as she took a draw off of her cigarette. She stomped it out as they pulled up, sauntering over to the car.

"We drop the guy off and leave, Dean." The nurse was small, blonde, and was already making eyes past Sam at Dean as she approached the car.

"No worries, Sammy. Recycled scotch would be enough to turn me off of Pam Anderson."

"Really?" Sam scoffed as he climbed out of the car.

"Not really," Dean grinned, already opening the back door. "But it should help you realize the seriousness of the situation you face. You are so _dead_."

"Whatever dude."

"Yeah, you'll whatever here in a minute." Dean bent down to haul the man out of the back seat, the smell of vomit almost knocking him over.

"What happened?" the nurse said, a distasteful look crossing her face as Dean tried to hand the man over.

"My brother and I were at a bar, offered to bring him here. By the way he was drinking, wouldn't be surprised if he's close to alcohol poisoning."

The woman looked at Dean as if he was her new hero. "You _offered_?"

"Yeah," Dean said, making eye contact with Sam. "And all I get is a back seat full of puke for my trouble."

The small nurse passed the man off onto a larger male nurse that had made it outside, who then passed him off into a wheel chair and took him inside.

"I'll bet I could help you out with that back seat." The nurse wasn't even playing hard to get, and if Dean had been in the mood he probably wouldn't have been that interested. He liked women who at least had a little class, and who at least had a little reservation.

Dean shook his head, "Maybe another time."

The nurse pouted, her glossy lower lip suddenly looking huge in the bright light of the emergency room entrance. "Well we at least need you guys to come in and fill out the forms for this guy."

"We don't even know him," Sam said as they both jumped back into the car.

"Might as well classify him as a John Doe," Dean added. "When he sobers up, I'm sure he'll remember who he is."

The nurse nodded, and then slowly walked back inside. Dean pulled the car out of the lot, and bypassed their hotel.

A bit disappointed, Sam turned a questioning gaze on his brother. "Dude, it's like two in the morning. Where are we going?" A nice shower, regardless of temperature, and crawling into bed had started to sound really good to him.

"We can't let this sit over night Sammy." Sam groaned as they pulled into a 24/7 carwash, the amount of lights illuminating the small parking lot blinding them both.

It was going to be a long night.

.:.SN.:.

They sat in the freshly washed Impala, chowing down on greasy sausage sandwiches in the town's only Sonic, trying to ignore the lingering scent of vomit that just would not come out. They had both awoken around nine that morning, packed up their room, and headed out. They'd seen enough action in this town and were ready to go.

Dean scanned the headlines of a national paper, watching for their next gig. Sam sat beside him, half-heartedly surfing through the various news sites on his laptop. The WiFi was slow, and he wasn't getting very far.

"I think I got somethin'," Dean said, throwing the newspaper at Sam.

"Which article?"

Dean put the car into reverse, pointing to the opposite page from which Sam was reading.

""Large Dog Kills Woman"?"

"That dog _shred_ the woman into bits."

"So are you thinking a supernatural dog?"

"The best kind."

"I happen to like the kind that don't want to tear your face off," Sam said, his lips curling. "It would be nice to go up against a sweet little Fluffy or a playful little Fido one of these days." It felt good to joke around with his brother, a light-hearted joking way that he would no longer take for granted. He would take his brother over any other universe, any day.

"Well I happen to prefer the kind you get to put down with a silver bullet. And remember Mrs. Resner's Fluffy? _That_ was a vicious dog."

Mrs. Resner had been their neighbor when they had been kids, at one of their various apartments, and had a small toy poodle named Fluffy.

"That's only because you would poke the thing with a stick whenever you could."

"It had razor sharp teeth, it wasn't simple poking, I was defending myself."

The day Sam had come home to find Fluffy attached to Dean, teeth furiously chomping on his forearm, was a sweet memory. Huh, he'd almost forgotten.

"Fluffy was a sweet little dog." The truth was, Fluffy had terrified them both. But she had only attacked Dean.

The classic beauty headed for the Interstate, Rush blaring from her speakers as her occupants continued to argue.

* * *

Thanks again, and I'll see you next time! 


End file.
